Violetta
by C. Hawthorne
Summary: After a few breathless moments, Lelouch asks, "Why did you forgive me?" Then Suzaku turns - wearing a look unrivaled by any other Lelouch has seen on him - and says, "Because I love you." Reader, he never realized it could be so simple. AU
1. as we both prepare

**violetta 01**

––—∞—––

Suzaku Kururugi hates the smell of burning plastic.

He discovers this late one Sunday evening, when he is burning the plastic tag-ties off his new clothes. He's been bargain shopping recently, and consequently, he spends a lot of time de-tagging his purchases. Back-to-school sales had begun the week before, and in preparation for college, he'd used the small stipend that came alongside his scholarship to buy his much-needed clothes (he had hit a growth spurt somewhere in the middle of senior year) and his grandmother could not afford to buy new clothes at that point. She is his sole caretaker and, since her age is getting the best of her, he mostly takes care of himself.

He tosses the charred ties into the garbage can at the foot of his bed, making a quick decision that he'll shove these clothes into their box later, because he's not even going to the dorm until Wednesday. In the two-day space until then, he plans on some serious contemplation. It was a hell of a lot of work for a person like him to make it to Pendragon University, (especially considering his heritage; who would want an _Eleven_ in their dorm?) and post-high school laziness wasn't going to stop him now. He wanted no distractions—down to business, parties are out of the question. Even Milly, who lectured Suzaku on the importance of socializing and fraternities, could not sway him from this decision.

A muffled _beep _alerts him of a new text message. _Pack your camera too! _Speak of the devil. She isn't going to college; apparently, beauty shops are her calling. (Rivalz hadn't taken that well.) Suzaku had to admit he was a little jealous; she has all the money in the world, a plethora of opportunities open to her, and here he is planning to commute building-to-building on his bicycle. But he can't berate her for it. She really isn't built for any sort of education; she'd worried endlessly about even _passing _in high school, so perhaps this is for the best.

He stands listlessly in the shower, examining the drain with dogged attention to detail. Maybe it's because he's nervous. Why is this so difficult? Suzaku has always been a people person, for the most part chipper and inviting. It wouldn't be difficult to get help if he didn't know where he was going, or if he didn't know where to pick up his books (granted he asks someone who's not racist).

And there's always Rivalz, right? The blue-haired oddball is also going to Pendragon, but like most of the people Suzaku had talked to, he was staying in Amherst Hall. He himself was in Nester, according to the letter Admissions had sent him. It was on the northeast part of the campus ("near many buildings necessary to the incoming freshman class", said the map) and he could take a taxi, a tram, or drive his own vehicle should he so choose. He can't help but feel like an oddball, with only a bike and a Rivalz to get him where he needs to be.

Then again, he never got anywhere by worrying either.

––—∞—––

_"Girls! All I really want is girls!"_

"Stop it."

"_And in the morning it's girls~ and in the evening it's girls~"_

"Shut up, witch."

_"To do the dishes, to do the laundry—"_

Lelouch sucks in a breath. "Why don't you try your hand at some laundry for once, cretin?"

C.C. barely blinks. "Nervous about your first class on Wednesday?" Mocking Lelouch (or _Professor Lamperouge, _as he will be called from now on) has been one of her favorite pastimes ever since their first meeting. He's always just _asking _for it. "I can see you've been starching your blazer compulsively. How very in character."

He sighs, exasperated, and turns the iron to its Steam setting. There have to be better quality ones than this. "It's not about being compulsive, it's about being organized. You don't even know how to work the washer—bringing me back to the laundry issue—so you're hardly in a position to lecture me about cleanliness."

"Mmmm." She reaches into a garlic-reeking box of pizza that sits precariously close to Lelouch's shirt. "You just want to be cute for all of those college boys, you big pedophile you."

"I just find appearances to be very important when you're trying to make an impression on young people." Lelouch shakes the can of starch and sprays it over the collar. "You really should be doing this for me, C.C., considering just how much of my money you…" he stops, face breaking into a moue of disgust at the sight of her gorging on pizza. She ignores him, of course, and he goes on, "and don't make this into something so stupid. I regret confiding in you."

"You're going to make me regret letting you stay here until that college lines up a place for you." But not another word is said between them. For years, their friendship (if you could call it that) has been punctuated by many a sarcasm-flavored silence, the bulk of which are induced by her attempts to level the playing field. It is silent now, however, because Lelouch is busy with that shirt, which is already tailor-quality smooth. "So, how exactly is Nunnally going to do it?"

"Do what? Live on campus? I have it taken care of." Of course he does. She can see it now: Lelouch heckling with everyone who comes into his range of vision, imploring them to do something about the lack of transportation modifications for his sister. "Wheelchair ramps have been built all through Nester, at last. I first called those people in April." When the acceptance letter had come in the mail and he'd made three distinct copies: one for Schneizel (the conniving brother who always seems to gain an advantage over him in some way), one for his resume, and one to put in a frame.

"Why are you staying in a dormitory? Just get an apartment." She nips a pepperoni off the edge of her slice.

"It's a matter of convenience. I'm not going to drive my sister around for miles on end," he reminded. "I can always move out if I want to. Dean Carlan understands." The iron fizzes as it glides over the starch. "You really should work on getting a job, C.C., your mother isn't going to pay your rent forever."

"I don't want a job," she says languidly, staring at the conch lamp on the ceiling. It needs dusted. "I'm perfectly fine with her paying; she can do it as long as she wants to."

Lelouch sighs and hangs up his blazer on the gold-glazed hook near C.C.'s computer desk. "I'm going to bed," he announces, smoothing fuzz off his slacks. "Don't blare any music, I mean it this time."

After the sound of her voice ("Whatever you do, try not to go to town on yourself, I just cleaned those sheets" etc) has faded away, he sinks onto the sub-quality bed in her guest room, crossing one leg over the other and folding his arms underneath his head. He isn't exactly nervous, mostly because the freshman are too busy trying not to get lost to be real annoyances, but he is anxious about what he will be doing when he's not teaching. What is there to do in Pendragon, other than go out drinking? College towns never had any depth; not in his experience, anyway.

Maybe he'll just read the year away.

––—∞—––

_Room 220. Mission accomplished. _Suzaku pops his room key in the slot and watches a tiny smiley face appear at the corner of the screen, accompanied by a cheerful _ping. _He opens the door and, mercifully, he's still alone in here, the smell of cleaning products to keep him company. Maybe his roommate hasn't arrived yet—better yet, maybe he doesn't even have one.

His boxes have already been moved in here—thanks to Milly's pioneering efforts—and his laptop sits waiting on the purple-topped mahogany desk in the corner. On the wall to its right is a poster.

_1. You will not enter any residence hall without your student identification. Only one room key will be issued to you – in the event that you lose it, you must purchase all additional room keys for fifty dollars._

_2. Use of any controlled substances on this property is prohibited and will result in immediate expulsion._

_3. If any faculty members live in your residence hall, they are to be left alone. If you must speak to a faculty member, contact them via email or phone._

_4. Your Resident Assistant will answer any questions you may have._

Nester Hall Resident Assistant: Gino Weinberg

Well, Suzaku can't imagine why anyone (save for annoying teachers' pets) would want to bother a professor in the first place, much less have the time to. And he isn't too sure of why anyone would be stupid enough to bring drugs into their dorm. Then again, stranger things must certainly have happened.

Nothing left to do but wait, right? His first class doesn't start until one o'clock, and it's only a few blocks away. His bicycle waits downstairs, locked to a metal pole outside. He's amazed he hasn't lost or forgotten something yet, but then again he did spend an hour making sure everything he owned was present and accounted for.

He pulls a picture of Euphy out of his duffel bag and places it on the tiny nightstand, settling on his bed to look at it for a while. It was taken this summer at Shirley's graduation party, and Euphy had insisted that she looked bad. Suzaku is convinced it's the best picture of her he's ever seen – and he's always liked her in cap sleeves.

(Euphemia decided to go to art school, much to his chagrin, and she's forty-five minutes away in Cromwell City. They've made promises to call each other whenever possible, but he'll be calling her more than she'll be calling him. She's forgetful.)

The door opens, and it's a smiling young blond man. His eyes are that bright, disconcerting sort of blue that's more creepy than charming. "Hi, I'm Gino. Do you need help with anything?" he shakes his head no. A moment passes. "Don't talk much, do you."

"No, I just – " Suzaku exhales, feeling a bit relieved to talk to someone, even if he comes off as a little annoying. "I'm just a little tired."

Gino gives him a knowing look. "It'll pass. Anyway, your roommate's pre-law, so he's pretty quiet too. You'll meet him in a few. Just wanted to make sure you were settled in. By the way, that accent – you're Japanese, aren't you?"

_Oh, wonderful. _Growing up in a rather small community within the city, Suzaku had grown accustomed to people knowing and accepting his nationality. Britannians react to an Eleven the same way Americans do, for the most part – about half of them are fine with it, and the other half – well, it's something he doesn't linger on. He can generally tell between the two types depending on who says _Japanese _and who says _Eleven _or _Number. _"Yeah. I was born in Kyoto."

"Cool. I only know a handful of Japanese people myself. Nice people though. I'll be seeing you later, Suzaku, awwright?"

"Okay," Suzaku says quietly, and Gino leaves. _That must be the RA. He's certainly chipper, isn't he? _He turns his gaze back to the picture of Euphy. _I wonder what she would be doing if I had brought her here… probably trying to paint the room pink. _

He looks up, surprised, to see his roommate unpacking. When did he come in, again? It's a young man with longish dark blond hair—_is everyone blond in this town—_and Suzaku must have been too spaced out to hear him open the door. "Hi," he says, noticing the brunet's gaze, "I'm Clovis."

"Suzaku."

Clovis looks at him for a little while longer, sizing him up. He doesn't seem very concerned about the race thing, (more curious really; and Suzaku himself is quite curious about Clovis too) so the young Kururugi feels thankful to have him for a roommate. "What's your major?"

"Literature."

"Are you a writer?" Suzaku is quickly realizing that most people seem to treat their major like a way of life; he isn't all that pressed about it.

"Not really. I just like it more than math." And his grandmother had said that Literature would glean the most job opportunities. ("_The world will always need people to help others learn to appreciate words_.") He shrugs and looks at his toes. "How about you?"

"Poly-Sci. It'll be beneficial whenever I go into law school." Clovis speaks lazily, but somehow fluidly, with the languor of someone who reads audio versions of famous books for a living. He'd be the perfect lawyer.

Suzaku pulls out his phone, thumbing through it. He always does this when he doesn't know what to say in a conversation; childish, but effective. Clovis doesn't say anything else anyway. It could be the beginning of a beautiful not so friendship.

––—∞—––

"Fuck."

Lelouch has spilled coffee all over his slacks, in a very painful area, and now he's clutching his crotch, silently howling in pain. "Lord in heaven—" it had happened when he'd been walking down this pitiably narrow hallway, counting down doors until he reached his own (224) – and a clumsy jerk-of-the-hand later – intense testicular trauma, among other things.

"Big brother?" says a quiet voice.

"N-Nunnally!" Lelouch clears his throat. He's not sure which is worse; that he's just scorched his nether-regions with scalding-hot coffee or that his fourteen-year-old sister witnessed her self-proclaimed 'saint' of an older brother drop the F bomb. "Where did you come from?"

She holds up a room key. His right eye twitches. "The front desk, silly. You forgot this."

_Spectacular, another thing goes wrong. _"Thank you for getting it for me." He smiles through the gut wrenching burning and itching and turns around, slipping the key into its slot. Lelouch holds open the door until his sister is inside, but that's the end of patience and he bolts straight for the bathroom, quickly ridding himself of the ruined pants and surveying the damage. It doesn't look like there will be any permanent issues, just a hell of a burn and an intense drop in confidence. _Most men with a PhD don't spill coffee all over themselves, much less react this way._

Lelouch looks in his suitcase and pulls out a pair of black jeans, cringing, but _they're all I have _(that is until C.C. transports his wardrobe to this residence hall tomorrow). He hopes that, perhaps, the students will just assume he wants to be casual for the first day. Yes. That's what they'll think.

––—∞—––

Rivalz is in Suzaku's Literature class; they discover this fact when they collide on the way to the Saffron Building. Suzaku's books tumble onto the ground and Rivalz smacks his head against the pavement, but they're both too happy to care. (Rivalz had always been good at taking pain; maybe it was all those years with Milly.)

Suzaku, righting his bike, says, "Are you excited?"

"For my first day of college, or for my date tonight?" Rivalz wags his eyebrows and readjusts the messenger bag on his shoulder. That's really a clever way to carry everything around, Suzaku thinks. He should buy one too. "Very."

"You have a date, huh?" Suzaku smiles, glad his blue-haired friend has finally come into his own, at least a little bit. "What's her name?"

"Actually, uh, I'm going to a movie with Shirley." At Suzaku's expression, he hastens, "b-but she said 'it's a date!' so it is, right?" he punctuates his sentence with a nervous chuckle.

"Girls say that all the time just to confuse you. It doesn't mean anything." Suzaku isn't saying it out of any type of jealousy; he's just had enough girls hurt his feelings when he assumed things. Shirley has spent many years inviting guys on pity dates, anyway – she doesn't really do the relationship thing much; says she gets hurt too easily. "Sorry about that."

Rivalz frowns. "Shucks, just when I thought I had a break, ya know? Anyway, it says our prof. for this class is Lelouch Lamperouge. Is Lelouch… is that a girl's name?"

Suzaku's too busy texting Euphy to formulate an intelligent response. "No idea." **So you can come and visit me this weekend? That's great, Suzu! I'll cook for you; my dorm has a kitchen.**

They walk into Saffron, and Suzaku's still got his head bowed over his phone, so Rivalz approaches the front desk. "Hey, where's Classroom 134?"

"Find it on your own," says the young woman, popping her gum bubble. It creates a film in front of her lips. "You're not five." She whips her pink hair off of her face.

Suzaku glimpses a sign with an arrow that reads 124-136, so he follows it down a hallway to the left. Wooden benches flank the walls on either side. Classroom 134 is mostly empty when they enter it, save for a few chatty other freshmen, and Suzaku takes a seat at the front, his face back down to his phone before Rivalz can blink. _Man, he and Euphy sure are attached to each other._

Professor Lamperouge makes his entrance about ten minutes later. "Hello, I'm Professor Lamperouge, and welcome to Advanced Literature."

Finally Suzaku looks up, shortly surprised by just how _feminine _Professor Lamperouge is. He's tall with long, graceful limbs – glossy black hair, long eyelashes, thin mouth. Maybe he's one of those frail poet-types. He pulls out the aforementioned notebook and scrawls his name at the top, watching Lelouch pull up something on the projector. There's something very prim and deliberate about the way he speaks—and it brings to mind a little jingle Euphy always used to sing before choir class. _Diction is done with the tip of the tongue and the teeth~_

The brunet alternatively texts and takes notes—_something about Britannia's first philosophers—_while wondering why Professor Lamperouge keeps pacing around the room as if he is waiting for a bomb to go off or something. He looks young—twenty-two or twenty-three—so he's probably a new professor. Suzaku could see how that could be stressful. But he needs to chill. Just a little.

It's working out fine; they're not talking too much or asking annoying questions, and they all seem to be taking notes as instructed.

Except for one. A baby-faced boy in the third row, chocolate-brown head bowed, face lit up by the LCD screen of a cell phone.

"You," says Professor Lamperouge. Suzaku's busy texting until – suddenly – the phone is no longer there. Professor Lamperouge has it. What. "What's your name?"

"Suzaku," he mutters, feeling shame creep through him as he feels the eyes of the other students. A few whispers reach his ears. His voice is hoarse. "Suzaku Kururugi." This was a bad idea. He should've taken Economics or something instead.

Lelouch raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You're Japanese, are you?" He doesn't mean for it to come out sounding sour, but it does. It's probably because he feels bad for this boy, who will no doubt be ridiculed by at least a few people. The University is pro-integration, of course, but that doesn't mean its students are.

_Here we go._ "Yes."

"Well, Suzaku." He puts the boy's cell phone back on the desk in front of him. "Don't let it happen again."

Suzaku's mouth twists, but he says nothing. "I think you're confusing me with a _high school _freshman." _He's probably one of those old-world Britannians who thinks Elevens are the scum of the earth._

Lelouch sighs and rounds the projector in the middle of the room, keeping his eyes on Suzaku. "This is the first day. I could care less what you do for the rest of the semester, but today I will have your attention."

_Drop dead, asshole. _"Fine." He averts his eyes from Professor Lamperouge and looks at Rivalz, who's watching the scene intently. The two exchange a disappointed glance and nothing more.

Lelouch sits at his desk, watching Suzaku over his glasses. He seems to be a happy person; maybe he just has issues with authority, or hates Britannians as a whole. That isn't his fault; the lengths Britannians go to in order to prove their self-proclaimed 'superiority' over the Japanese often sicken him. He does not speak a word to them, though; they will learn more from their mistakes than they will from admonishment.

Suzaku texts Rivalz, **Where do I go to switch out of this class?**

––—∞—––

When he returns to the dorm at 7 o'clock that night, Suzaku is deathly exhausted. He wanders in, still standing by god's good will, and collapses onto his welcoming bed as soon as he's close enough.

He's not usually this tired. Perhaps it's because he's been at high-speed all day long, biking through town, running up and down stairs, and lastly, avoiding Gino. Luckily, his attempts have been successful thus far—the bubbly blond has been following him, trying insistently to help him with problems that do not exist. Clovis would be better company, but he's not here. Maybe peace and quiet is the best thing.

Then Suzaku thinks about him again, Professor Lamperouge, that womanly bigot who hates cell phones. It took Suzaku everything he had not to have a screaming fit – not so much because he was so angry with the professor for taking his phone, but more for calling him out in front of the entire class.

The one thing Suzaku had sworn to was to draw as little attention to himself as possible, and the professor had ruined his chances of that quite quickly – in front of the 1,300 students sitting around him.

Suzaku labors a sigh and kicks the covers free, pulling them tight over his frame. _He's a racist anyway. Think about something else. _

Euphy. His spirits lift. He's going to visit her soon, at Cromwell. Are art schools different from normal colleges? They must be. The night drags on and his thoughts grow rambled, and sleep hits him square in the face somewhere around nine thirty.

––—∞—––

Around the same time, Lelouch is tucking Nunnally into bed, removing her from her wheelchair and adjusting the blankets. For a moment it is quiet, and he suspects she is gearing up to ask a question. "How was your first day?"

_Eh. "_Very good, actually. I was built for teaching." He smiles to let her know he means it, because she can always somehow tell when he's frowning. "How was it here? Did the staff treat you nicely?"

"Yes. The woman at the front desk has a dog named Kiri. It has so much fur." She thinks wistfully of the dog. It yapped a lot. "Have you met the boy next door to us yet?"

"Mm? No, I haven't." Lelouch is unloading his briefcase. "What's he like?"

"I only talked to him for a minute; he seemed to be in a hurry. When did Sayoko say she was coming?" The live-in maid he'd hired, who'd formerly served them only in his house on Arbordale, had been approved by the University as a caretaker for Nunnally, and as such had lined up a dormitory unit a few hallways over. She will home school his sister and tidy the place up just as she always has, but for the moment, she is in Japan visiting family.

"Tuesday." And he will greatly appreciate her presence. As much as he enjoys Nunnally's company, a few of the conversations they have are rather awkward – though she never outright said anything, Lelouch knows she wasn't too pleased about leaving her school, Ashford Academy, to come and live in a college residence hall. But without complaint she had come along, saying it would be good for them both to live in the city. "Say, Nunnally – would you want to go and get ice cream with me in the morning, before I go to work?"

"I'd like to. I haven't seen any of this part of town yet." She sounds absolutely ecstatic, and a distant part of him feels sad for it. "Wake me up a while before we go. Can you braid my hair?"

"I will try." Yet another reason why he mourns Sayoko's absence. Lelouch adjusts Nunnally's pillow. "Well, good night. I'll see you in the morning."

"Make sure you go to sleep. I hear you up pacing a lot of the time."

"Mmmm-hm."

He closes the door of the tiny bedroom and lingers against it for a moment, thinking about what she said. If Nunnally is awake long enough to hear him pacing, that would mean she's staying up until 2, 3 o'clock in the morning. Not necessarily a surprise. She must have a lot of things to think about, and look back on. A part of him wonders, paranoid, if she spends time wondering what it would be like if she lived with, perhaps, Schneizel.

He sits down at his desk, holding his head in his hands.

––—∞—––


	2. in which a pupil 'misbehaves'

_I know that starting over is not what life's about.  
But my thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth.  
_

_**violetta 02  
**_

––—∞—––

"You've been looking at that picture for quite some time now."

Schneizel smiles vaguely at the sound of that familiar voice, but goes on gazing at the photograph. He needn't look up to know who it is. "Have you been standing here the entire time, Cornelia?"

The purple-haired woman tries to look disinterested, but fails miserably. Her eyes give her away. "I think you need to focus on other things. What's done is done." She hoists a briefcase up from the floor and rounds the kitchen table, standing at her brother's side. It's almost eerie, how much time he spends talking about their two siblings – even seven months after the end of the hearing that decided that it would be _Lelouch and Nunnally _rather than _Nunnally, Cornelia, and Schneizel. _

"Do you think had the right to take her?" he asks lowly, a light frown pushing his brows together. Cornelia bites her lip but he goes on, "I certainly don't. Legally she's still yours. What sort of environment is a college campus for a teenage girl, anyway? He's all but thrown her in the lion's den. Such a child." He places the photograph on the counter, upside-down. "Imagine how it could be."

Her hand tightens on the strap. "If he can raise her better than we can, there's no sense worrying about it. You really do need to get back to your writings." Purplish eyes lock with pale blue ones, and Schneizel's glare falters just the tiniest bit. "I'm serious," Cornelia tacks on.

He doesn't blink. "Mm."

––—∞—––

A scene change finds Suzaku lying on a sofa in Nester Hall, seemingly alone, staring with dogged concentration at his cell phone. That is until his best friend comes back from the bathroom. "Ah, that felt good," Rivalz says with a satisfied sigh, and Suzaku hears the toilet flush in the distance. The blue-haired boy sinks into the sofa next to him, guzzling soda. "So my date with Shirley went pretty well last night."

"Did it wind up being an actual date?" asks Suzaku, who is typing away on his laptop.

"Y—yeah," says Rivalz, but his voice cracks. "It really went well." He peeks over Suzaku's shoulder onto the screen. "Writing a dirty story, eh?"

"I'm just typing up my notes. Professor Lamperouge made me do it as punishment for having my cell phone out again." His nose crinkles at the idea of the dainty English instructor. "I thought we were allowed to have them here?"

"Yeah, but hey, it's his rules." Doritos muffle Rivalz's voice, and even though the food distracts him, he notices the look on Suzaku's face. "I don't think he hates you, though. You're taking this personally."

_You don't know shit. "_Yeah. Maybe." Suzaku gives a wry smile and shuts his laptop, planning to finish the damn notes later. He stretches out on the couch, throwing his legs across Rivalz and watching the movie—some slasher film he rented last night, with fake guts and red syrup galore. The young Kururugi had invited him to his dorm for a few hours, since Rivalz has no classes today, but they're not using the time to study. No, it's just like high school—they're passing the time with poorly written movies and talk of girls.

After a while, though, they run out of snack food—depressed about his love life, Rivalz has wolfed down anything and everything edible—and Suzaku speaks up. "Hey, Rivalz, there's a vending machine downstairs."

A muffled yawn. "Suzaku, I'm tired." Translation: Suzaku, you're going. The brunet gets to his feet and heads down the hall, nearly colliding with a girl in a wheelchair. He quickly realizes she's the one he met yesterday.

"I—I'm sorry," he says quickly, hurrying down to her level. "I really am."

"You're all right," she laughs quietly. "Thank you for apologizing though, Suzaku-san." She's very pretty, symmetrical and doll-like with curling blondish-brown hair. However, her eyes are closed, and he feels even worse for bumping into her. She must be blind.

"You don't need an honorific," he chides softly, realizing that she's young and that she probably feels she'd be insulting him without one. "Just Suzaku."

"Ah, well, apology accepted, Just Suzaku." She speeds off down the hallway toward the elevator, and Suzaku follows her:

"I'm going the same way." He presses the button. "Might I ask your name?" he's being oddly chivalrous and he hopes it isn't just because she's disabled. "Miss." He lets slip the Japanese pronunciation of the word and curses himself inwardly.

"Nunnally." She feels the Braille for the first button and presses it. He stands next to her in silence for a moment, thinking about how out-of-place a crippled, visually impaired young woman is in a bustling college dormitory. It would be uncouth to ask her why she is here, so he doesn't. "Brittanian isn't your first language, is it?"

"No," he replies. "Japanese is." He almost has the Brittanian language perfect, but little slips in his syntax and speech patterns here and there are difficult to avoid. He never heard much about it until college, though.

"Ah, that would explain your name." The door opens and he pushes her out; she doesn't complain and this is good. Out of the corner of his eye, Suzaku sees a certain raven-haired someone—Professor Lamperouge, his brain registers vaguely—and he doesn't give it a second thought until Nunnally calls out to him:

"Big brother!" she wheels quickly in his direction, and Suzaku feels the handlebars of her chair slip from his hands. He realizes then why Nunnally is here: she's staying with her brother, the newest professor in the Arts and Sciences department. The thin young man is on his knees in front of his sister before Suzaku can even blink, and he cannot see the brunet who's looking on with such a confused expression.

"Hi, Nunnally. Did your sewing go well?" Professor Lamperouge asks, and Suzaku finds himself amazed by how gentle and soothing his voice is when directed toward his sister. "I worried about you during my meeting. How did you and Sayoko do on the grammar today?"

"She's being very nice," Nunnally says sweetly, "and so is Suzaku."

"Suzaku…" Professor Lamperouge thinks on the name, and after a moment of brain racking, he remembers him, the baby-faced boy in his afternoon class. "Ah, yes."

Nunnally turns somewhat to the left. "He's over there; he helped me down here."

Suzaku jumps out of his skin under Lamperouge's steely gaze; but after a moment the older man's pale face relaxes and he says, "Thank you for helping my sister." He's formal, but nonetheless warm, and the brunet despises it about him—_doesn't he hate the Japanese?_

"You're welcome." Suzaku nods primly.

Lamperouge says, "I didn't know you lived in this building as well, Suzaku. That's interesting." He smiles. _He seems to resent me. Is the cell phone issue still pressing him? _"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then, hm?" He gets to his feet and proceeds to push his sister away, toward the east wing. It takes Suzaku a full three minutes to remember that he's down here to get snack food for himself and Rivalz.

After using the vending machines, Suzaku climbs the stairs rather than taking the elevator. He isn't bothered by any of his other teachers—and certainly none of them are Eleven-lovers—so why does he keep worrying about Professor Lamperouge? Is he going to fail the class just because the professor doesn't exactly adore him? No. No, college doesn't work that way. He gets the material, studies it, writes papers.

He doesn't take any personal stock in the faculty and their opinions on him. He's smarter than that.

Rivalz has put in another movie when he returns. "Hey, buddy, guess what I found!" It's another independent film. Suzaku has lost his appetite so he watches without eating, pondering Professor Lamperouge and his little sister.

_God, I need a life._

––—∞—––

"Why would he pick such a subject?"

"Maybe he's just trying to be diverse. There's no harm in it."

Suzaku walks into room 134, his heart routinely dropping. Professor Lamperouge's class is just study hall for him now—he spends it drawing, writing, or texting Euphy. English has always been his strong point so he's not exactly pressed about studying right away.

He takes a seat at his desk and by some chance he glances up at the projector—_Great Japanese Works of Literature?_

Suzaku blinks. "Huh?" he says aloud. _That's strange. Professor Lamperouge usually sticks to Britannian subjects. _Of course Suzaku is already familiar with the Tale of Genji and the works of Chikamatsu—which is what Lamperouge has on display here—but he's suddenly been turned back onto actually _working _in this class.

Rivalz slides in next to him, appearing from nowhere. "Hey buddy. Interesting looking lecture today, huh?" he gives Suzaku an I-told-you-so look and the brunet smiles at him before opening his long-closed notebook. After scrawling his name at the top, he begins to write everything he knows about the Tale of Genji—which is a substantial amount, considering his extensive tutoring as a child. He'll turn this in to Lamperouge as proof that yes; his new topic is getting somewhere, at least to Suzaku.

Lamperouge is running a little late today; he explains that he was having a bit of car trouble, but won't keep them any longer than a normal class. A girl in the front row pipes up—_Shirley, _Suzaku registers vaguely. "P-Professor Lamperouge? W-would you mind explaining why we're studying Japanese subjects today?"

The professor smiles lightly. "I figured we could use a change of pace." When his gaze snaps to Suzaku, the younger male freezes as if he's been electrocuted. _He did this because of me. What's he trying to prove? _"Suzaku, you seem to have written quite a bit. May I?" he slinks over to his desk and Suzaku bristles. _He smells nice, _he notices, _like vanilla._

"Suzaku. May I see your paper?" Lamperouge repeats, a bit testy. Suzaku comes back to earth and slides it silently across the desk, and the Professor picks it up with his long fingers. He looks it over under long eyelashes and he seems pleased. "This is very informative. I can see you have no need to sit in on this lecture, hm?"

"I learned about the Tale of Genji as a child," Suzaku explains, "my father stressed it."

"Your father? Would he by any chance be the former Prime Minister Genbu Kururugi?" at this point, a few of the students have stopped their chattering and had begun to stare at Suzaku.

"Yes." He looks down at his hand. "He was very well-read," Suzaku adds lamely.

"As are you." Lamperouge smiles and makes his way back to the front of the room.

He lectures the class for about forty-five minutes, but the young Kururugi doesn't take in a single word—he is too busy watching Lamperouge's mannerisms. He's thin and willowy, clearly not very strong at all, but his intelligence is probably what makes him so intimidating. He regards the world through spectacles—at least when he's teaching, and he thinks they suit him quite well. He's not going to lie—Lamperouge is _beautiful, _even if he's a guy. Suzaku's straight as an arrow, but he'll admit that. _If I were gay, I would—_

"Hey!" Rivalz hisses, jabbing Suzaku in the stomach with his pencil. "Hey! Shirley passed me this!"

Suzaku looked over the note and fought the urge to groan. _I think we should call the Professor Lulu! He's pretty cute. _"Urgh," he says noncommittally, slipping the note back to Rivalz and continuing to watch the aforementioned professor. It's strange that 24 hours ago, he hated the man, and now he's eaten up with curiosity, wondering more and more about him with each passing moment. However, Suzaku's always been a little too forgiving for his own good; it's gotten him into more than one problem in life. Nonetheless, he's taken a new liking to Professor Lamperouge, no matter what the circumstances.

Thirty minutes or so pass before Lamperouge announces, "And that concludes today's lecture. Are there any questions on the argument?" He's assigned an argument on the symbolism in Saikaku's work; Suzaku jots it down and shoves his notebook back in his bag. "All right then. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

The rest of the students disperse quickly; all except for Shirley, who approaches Lamperouge's desk with an excitement in her eyes. "Professor?"

"Miss Fenette is it?" he looks up at her, smiling politely.

"Yes. I was just wondering if there was a way 'tunderstand."

Lamperouge blinks. "I beg your pardon?"

Shirley fidgets. "I don't really understand symbolism at all," she murmurs, going pink when Professor Lamperouge says:

"Many people don't quite understand it at first. It just takes a bit of thinking." He smiles, showing his teeth this time, and goes back to writing on his legal pad. Suzaku has been watching this little episode for a few minutes now, and has taken on the role of the transfixed observer. He wants to find out if Lamperouge is a womanizer; how could he not be, looking like that? He read somewhere that young women are big fans of androgynous men.

"M-Maybe I could—maybe you could help me with it!" she says, sounding a bit strained, as if she needs to pee or something.

"I surely can. Perhaps you can stop by next time you have a free period."

"I don't have another class until tomorrow." She smiles nervously and he looks back up at her, taking off his glasses. That certainly isn't a normal eye color.

"Fine, then. Four-thirty back here, then. Would that be all—"

"Okay, thanks, Professor Lamperouge!" Shirley chirps, tittering off toward who-knows where. This leaves Professor Lamperouge and Suzaku alone in the classroom, but the older man doesn't know this until the younger clears his throat.

"Oh, hello, Suzaku." His eyes open wider. "I didn't notice you."

Jade-green eyes blink and open again quickly. "I just wanted to say I'm glad we explored Japanese literature today, Professor. Thank you for looking at a new topic."

Lamperouge looks at him for a long while. "You seem tense. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot."

Suzaku looks at his feet. "What would make you think that?" _What would make you care? _After all, Suzaku's only one of Professor Lamperouge's fifteen-hundred-and-something students, quite an unremarkable one at that.

"Simply because when we talk, you seem put off." Lamperouge's lips come together in a terse line and for a moment Suzaku wonders if his Professor puts as much thought into their relationship—if you could even _call _it that, considering how little they've actually interacted—as he does.

"No, Professor, I… I was under the impression that you were bigoted – whenever you –"

Realization slowly dawns on his pale face. "Oh no, no, no. You have me all wrong. I'm certainly not a bigot." He breathes resentfully, but doesn't appear to be insulted. "I try to treat all of my students the same… I thought I had been doing a good job of it."

"Oh, you—you were, I'm just oversensitive," Suzaku hastened to explain, walking closer to the desk. He wonders if he's just being so nice because the Professor's _attractive— _"I'm sorry. Any confusion here was my fault."

Lelouch watches this Suzaku boy—hair mussed, eyes wide open, looking as if he's going to jump out of his skin—and he smiles faintly. Despite the strong build, Suzaku's face is still that of a child. He's always liked that in a man. "I'm glad we've got it worked out. On a lighter note, you have an excellent understanding of our current topic."

"Thank you." _We already went over this. _"I'm just really familiar with it, is all."

"Perhaps you could help me tutor Shirley." Lelouch isn't sure whether he's asking Suzaku to do this because he's not looking forward to being alone with Shirley, or because he actually wants him to be there. "The best work often happens in groups, they say."

_Since when do they say that? _"Okay, cool." Suzaku smiles and picks up his bag. "I'm going to be late for… goodbye." He curses himself on the inside as he leaves the classroom. _Get your head checked, Suzaku. Jesus Christ._

––—∞—––

"I before E…" Clovis murmurs, "Except in Budweiser…"

Suzaku frowns at his sleeping roommate, and then gets back to work on his argument. It's going pretty well. There's a sound outline, and he's really touching down on the smaller issues that really change the idea of the whole piece. Overall, good work. Still two hours to kill before his study session with Shirley and Professor Lamperouge. What to do, what to do. Maybe he would look around town a little; Suzaku hasn't really seen any of Pendragon other than the school buildings.

––—∞—––

Lelouch walks back down the main hall of Nester, thinking of his second day thus far, and how it had gone better than the first. Students are actually asking him for help—but then again, why wouldn't they be? Perhaps Suzaku wasn't the only one who was oversensitive here.

He buys a coffee and sips it, needing the extra caffeine boost. He's going to have to deal with that bumbling Shirley here in a while, and that will take patience, perhaps something more. She's smitten with him, it's obvious, and he's rather annoyed. Maybe older teachers were more used to silly young girls. He was trying to figure out how deflect her advances without being cruel—but is there really a way? Perhaps symbolism is genuinely confusing her. He's hoping that's it.

He spots Suzaku through the rear window, kneeling over to unlock his bike from the rack. He finds himself smiling at the sight of the boy when his lock irritates him, having messed up the combination twice in a row. His brown hair is stuck to his forehead as he sweats in the heat—but why is he wearing such long pants? Frowning, Lelouch looks back down at his lesson plan for tomorrow, the thing he'd planned to focus on. He finds, rather quickly, that he can't focus, so he finds himself ogling Suzaku's firm ass as he struggles with his bike.

––—∞—––

Suzaku makes a loop around University Square, wondering why it's not storming. Earlier there had been talk of a huge thunderstorm hitting the city, yet it was still sunny and hot as could be. He's suffocating in his jeans and white T-shirt, so he stops for a breath somewhere alone Yardman Avenue. This street is flanked by student-occupied apartment buildings, and there are people wandering around everywhere. He hears a soft 'meow' and looks down at his feet.

It's a small gray cat, sitting expectantly in front of him. There's a spot round its right eye, and it seems quite pleased to see him. "Meow," says the cat once again, rubbing itself on Suzaku's ankles. He smiles faintly before noticing a cut on the cat's foot.

He doesn't usually pick up strays, but since the cat's injured, he's willing to make an exception. A jingling alerts him to a nametag around the cat's neck, reading _Arthur. _There's no phone number or address. He's probably run away from home, or worse, been abandoned here by some uppity student who decided they didn't want a cat anymore. Since he was a young boy, Suzaku has had a soft spot for animals.

Arthur won't do well riding on his bike, so Suzaku walks to the nearest house and places him on the porch. The cat continues to stare at him, its yellow eyes somewhat eerie and persistent. In a pickle, Suzaku decides to call Rivalz. "Hey," the blue-haired boy answers, "where are you, anyway?"

"I'm on Yardman. There's a cat here and…" he listens to Arthur _meow _again and continues, "It's hurt."

"Yeesh, Suzaku, it's just a cat. Is that the only reason you called me? Gosh, you never change, do you?" Rivalz's voice is muffled; he probably has Suzaku on speaker again.

"Sorry. I'd just get worried if I left it here."

"What do you want me to do, Suzaku? Drive out there and pick it up?" Rivalz sighs, but Suzaku knows him well enough to understand that this is his way of agreeing. "Well, all right. I'll help you drop it off at the shelter or something. Don't ask me for any favors."

"Thanks." Suzaku hangs up and picks Arthur up again, further surveying the cut on his leg. It looks as if he got in a fight with another animal – hopefully another cat. The animal purrs in his arms, and Suzaku smiles.

Rivalz rolls up about ten minutes later, his brown eyes hidden behind a pair of overlarge sunglasses. "Put your bike in the trunk. It's unlocked."

_What bit him on the ass? _"Sorry about this," Suzaku says, once he's gotten into the car, "I just didn't want to leave him." He carefully places Arthur on the seat.

"Yeah, yeah. I don't want to hear your bleeding-heart pet rescue story, Suzaku! I was in the middle of an important talk with Shirley! I think she wanted to make a date," huffs the bluenette, speeding off down Fenz Avenue. "I really do think I had a chance that time."

"I'm pretty sure she's into… older men, Rivalz."

"What, you think she likes Lamperouge? That won't work out," Rivalz says, more to himself than to Suzaku. Raindrops begin to pelt the car—maybe the weather forecast was right after all. "I don't think you can look like that and not be gay."

"I don't think he's _gay_," Suzaku replies. "He has womanizer written all over him."

"You can be gay and still have girls drooling all over you," Rivalz reminded, wagging his eyebrows. "You remember Jeremy?"

"I try not to." Jeremy Fisher had been a quarterback on Ashford's football team—but he had been as queer as a three-dollar-bill, and Suzaku had been his target of choice. It had been a miserable ordeal. "And anyway, I don't mean to be mean, but I really don't think she sees you that way."

"All in due time," Rivalz says vaguely as the thunder begins to crash over town.

Predictably, after a few thunderclaps, Arthur jumps and skitters around in the back, terrified. Suzaku tries to calm him but the cat bites him harshly. "Owww!" and Rivalz laughing in the front seat isn't making the pain any better. "Sorry, Arthur!" he chokes.

"You've already named him?" Rivalz asks in disbelief. "Wow, you really get attached fast, huh?"

"It was on his collar," Suzaku explains, his voice still strained with misery. "How far are we from the shelter?" he looks up to see Faulkner Hall fly past him.

"I'm dumping you off at your dorm, and then I'll take the cat to the shelter. I've got to pick up Shirley."

"You sure? He might bite you if you try and pick him up."

"I think I can handle it." Rivalz pulls up to the front of Nester and Suzaku gets out, smiling nervously as he pulls his bike out of the trunk.

"I owe you one," he says, as the bluenette pulls away, and a thunderclap reminds Suzaku of the weather—that, and the fact that his white shirt has gone see-through because of the rain, molded to his torso like a second skin. This isn't the misty rain that he usually associates with summertime—no, it's cold, bullet-like droplets. Suzaku trudges through the grass, locking his bike to the rack as quickly as he can and sliding his key in the front door. _Okay, so I meet with Lamperouge in two hours or so… until then I'll just have to kill some time…_

"Hey, Suzaku!" The brunet groans inwardly as he sees Gino approaching him, that perpetual spring in his step. "You look like a drowned rat."

_Thanks. _"Yeah, I got caught in that." He jerked his head toward the window, outside of which the wind is yanking the trees around.

"Oh… I'm sorry. Do you want to hang out in the lounge or something? Until your next class?" there's a hopeful twinkling in the boy's sky-blue eyes and Suzaku is glad he actually _has _an excuse and doesn't have to make one up.

"I'm meeting Professor Lamperouge for a study session," he says, and the look on Gino's face confuses him a little. The blond is misty-eyed. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Gino hastens, "Have fun with that!" he smiles and walks off, presumably looking for another new freshman to stalk. Suzaku doesn't let free his sigh of relief until Gino is safely out of earshot.

Back in his room, he changes into a blue jacket and a fresh pair of jeans, the perfect attire for a rainy day. Clovis is up, the evidence being noises in the small kitchen unit as well as the scent of something frying. Suzaku lies on his bed, fisting his wet curls and trying to get the moisture off them, succeeding but wetting his pillow in the process. He's glad that Arthur finally has a chance at a good home, rather than the inevitable death he'd face as an injured stray. Rivalz had been annoyed, but then again he's always annoyed by something, ever since he and Milly had broken up.

Clovis re-enters the room, and he doesn't look surprised to see Suzaku. "Hello again," he says in that same laissez-faire voice. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." Suzaku smiles good-naturedly. There's something quite bizarre about his kind new roommate, and he's not exactly keen on figuring out what that is. Still, he's in no position to pass up a friend. "I rescued a cat earlier."

"Oh? That's good. You've got your morals in order." Clovis dons a pair of reading glasses and begins to work on something in his composition book, sitting at his desk. "Me, I really don't. I'm actually quite selfish."

The brunet doesn't know how to respond to this, so he returns to his self-hair-drying method and thinks on his meeting with Professor Lamperouge and Shirley. Lamperouge was right—the girl is dumber than a box of rocks and it's certainly going to take the both of them to teach her symbolism—which really isn't even that hard…

A knock on the door startles them both, and Suzaku gets up to get it, since Clovis is so very engrossed with his work. Expecting Gino, he readies himself for stress, but his heart swells when he realizes it's—

"Euphy!" Suzaku's lips part in surprise but quickly he grins, astounded by the sight of his girlfriend. Her cotton candy pink hair is a bit frazzled from the rain, but she looks as delicate and beautiful as always. "What the—"

"I know I'm supposed to wait until Sunday, but I just couldn't wait that long!" she explains, rushing forward to embrace him. His nostrils are full with her scent and he realizes just how much he's _missed _her, and that late-night texts pale sharply in comparison to the real thing. "Your dorm looks nice." She walks across the room, lighter than air—Euphy's gentle gait has always reminded him of a sylph fly as it glides alone the water. Or something.

"Thank you," he says, breathless. "Aren't you supposed to be in class today?"

"We were going on a trip to an art show, but it was cancelled because of the rain." Euphemia looks upset for a moment but smiles brightly when their eyes meet. "How are you? I missed you." He wonders why she hasn't kissed him hello, and he remembers that he has a roommate. _Fucking Clovis._

"I'm…fine. Better now," he adds, watching her twine their hands together, pale against tan. "You look nice." She's wearing a white button-up—his own, he realizes with surprise—and blue jean shorts, her flip flops abandoned near the door. He looks up when he hears a sound—Clovis is leaving, _yes!_

As soon as the door clicks shut, he pulls Euphy up onto his lap, messily coupling their mouths. It's a sloppy kiss; it's a long kiss. His breathing is heavy and deep and he's feeling his hormones jump around like crazy. When he begins to fumble with the buttons of her shirt, she breaks away. "Suzu—"

"Mm?" he breathes against her neck.

"I was hoping we could go and eat lunch or something." She freezes as if she's let slip some terrible secret.

Suzaku's expression wars openly between disappointment and pain. "Yeah, that… I'm sorry. I was out of line."

He re-fastens the button he nearly yanked off, feeling the twist in his belly ebb as he tries not to think about it. "How did y—how did you get in here?"

"I knocked on the door. I guess the receptionist thought I was cute." She giggles and he can't fight the goofy smile on his lips, despite the depressing cockblock that has just taken place.

"About lunch," he says, since there's no point in avoiding the subject, "I have to meet with one of my professors in about an hour…"

She tries to keep the disappointment of her face. Euphemia has been longing to see Suzaku for two, three odd weeks now, her mind lost in thoughts of green eyes and the little spurts of Japanese he occasionally speaks. Now that they can see each other, he decides to go and see his professor instead. _Stop being so selfish, _she thinks to herself, _he really is dedicated to learning. Give him a break. _However, talking herself out of bitterness doesn't stop the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Sure. I'll just… we can talk until then." A tentative smile on her part makes Suzaku contemplating blowing the meeting off and staying here with her, talking and reminiscing as they've been doing via text for days now.

So that's just what they do, Suzaku splayed across his comforter, his hand toying with her endless hair as her head rests against his stomach. They chat about college life thus far, their roommates, and Suzaku tells her of Gino, who's just itching to bang the first freshman who will take him. She asks him about Rivalz and Shirley and he tells the story of the bluenette's one-sided love for her.

Euphy has made a bunch of new friends and she chatters about them for a little while, but Suzaku is content to just lie there and listen. He's missed the way she often gets off topic then struggles to remember it, her lips together in that cute little pucker. He reminds her and then she laughs, admonishing herself for being 'so silly'.

He thinks of how much he loves her but doesn't say so—if he's been doing this right, she already knows.

"So, Suzu," she sits up on her knees, "what's this meeting with the Professor about? Are you having trouble with math again?"

"No, it's Literature. Shirley's having a tough time with some stuff that I really get, so Professor Lamperouge wants me to stop by and help him teach her again." Suzaku twists a bit of her hair around his index finger. "I'll don't know when I'll be back, but I won't stay long, promise."

She smiles tentatively. "Okay." Euphy's in no place to complain; their senior year of high school, she was usually gone at tutoring, or some sort of test prep session. Now it's Suzaku's turn to be studious—for once.

––—∞—––

"The definition of symbolism," says the Professor from his perch on the desk, "representing things by symbols, or investing things with a symbolic meaning or character." He looks up from an overlarge dictionary, the expectant look on his face making his violet eyes appear large and owlish behind his glasses. "So, Shirley, tell me your interpretation of that definition."

"Uhmmm…" she curls a string of orange hair around her index finger, "It means, like, giving things a voice."

"Personification is a big part of symbolism. That's good." Lamperouge gives her a winsome smile and Suzaku, from his spot to her right, can feel the heat rolling off her body. "Very good. Now, we'll try an example. A house has glass lodged in its walls—that is a symbol of what?"

_Inner turmoil. Abuse. Poor construction. _The brunet rubs his eraser across the desk, leaving semi-transparent streaks on it.

Shirley purses her lips. "Pain?"

"That—that could work. The glass could be an embodiment of past trials or pain, stabbing at the walls. Indeed." Professor Lamperouge looks harried but pleased, as if he's finally making some headway. Suzaku looks on, waiting for the moment when Lamperouge asks him to put in his two cents. He's dreading it.

"Suzaku." _Fucking fuck. _"Have you ever written anything using symbolism? Any poems or even prose?"

"I don't write much, to be truthful."

Lelouch is trying hard not to show that while this meeting is for teaching Shirley, but his only fixation is Suzaku. "Are you more of a reader?"

The boy blinks those big green eyes. "I—I do both equally." He looks down, cheeks flushed. _He's shy. _"I don't really go into symbolism; I mostly read more down-to-earth stuff."

"Ah. So you wouldn't think of yourself as spiritual in any way?" Lamperouge closes the dictionary and crosses one leg over the other, resting his head in his hand. There's something about his gaze that's putting cold prickles down Suzaku's spine; he's not intimidated, but something else entirely. "That's perfectly fine. Some don't want to be." Suzaku has a hard time imagining this man as spiritual; no, he seems more focused on getting lint off his suit than the litany of words that is symbolism. "Now, Shirley, do you understand better?"

"Somewhat," she says, sounding breathless. "I don't really understand the whole personification thing." It's amazing what one can forget when in the presence of an attractive man.

"All right then… say… the wind is whispering in the fields. The wind isn't really whispering—we just say it is, because the way it blows reminds us of a whispering voice. This ties into symbolism because a lot of poetic writing leads us to seeing other aspects of objects, some of which could even be human." He slides off the desk and pulls a chair up to her desk. "Now, if I said your eyes are talking to me—they aren't actually talking. However, the glassiness in them makes me think, 'she isn't really listening to you, Lelouch. You should just give up now." He smiles, a wry, sarcastic leer, and Shirley almost jumps out of her skin. Suzaku finds himself smirking; Lamperouge is certainly clever, he'll give him that.

"I-I'm listening! I really don't understand."

"Relax." Lamperouge picks up his dictionary, his voice soothing and soft, "I'm just kidding with you."

And just like that, she's drawn back in. _Oh, yeah, _Suzaku thinks, _womanizer. _"Professor Lamperouge, why do you place such an importance on symbolism?"

"It's a personal preference. The fact that Shirley wants to study it further is just a stroke of good luck." He shows Suzaku his pearly whites with that _smile _again. "Why is it you're so quiet in my class?"

"I don't see a use in saying anything. I have two ears and one mouth for a reason." His own acerbic tongue surprises Suzaku, but he is pleased all the same. There's something in him that _enjoys _this banter, as if it fulfills his inner desire to put Lamperouge in his place—but what for?

"Touché." Lelouch smiles inwardly but keeps his expression cold. "All right. I think we've covered all we need to for today. Thank you both for putting forth an effort." He places his glasses on his desk, lining them up with his nameplate. Shirley takes her time getting up—adjusting her skirt—but Suzaku rushes, thinking of his girlfriend back in his room, almost around the corner before a voice makes him stop.

"Suzaku!"

It's Lamperouge's voice and Suzaku stops, probably against his better judgment. He turns on his heel and stalks back toward the classroom, poking his head in. "Yes?"

Shirley's gone—he didn't see her leave—and Lamperouge is headed toward him. "We should talk."

"About what?" Suzaku asks, bewildered.

The older male stares at him for a long moment. "I feel as if you've got great potential for creative writing. That's really not what I focus on in the curriculum, but if you'd like to submit some extra work to me I wouldn't object to reading it." His experience with Suzaku has left him wondering what's going on in the boy's head, and what better way to find out than exploring it through words? "If you'd like to, of course."

"I'll… write something," Suzaku says blankly, still puzzled. "Why do you want to read my work? It's really… nothing special." He looks at his feet.

"We'll find out, now won't we?" the raven-haired man gives him a crooked smile and rounds his desk, taking a seat and opening his grade book. "You may leave now." _Lord knows I love to watch you walk._

––—∞—––

"It was strange, it really was. He was asking me to write him something." Suzaku looks at Euphy, wondering if she knows why the Professor would suddenly take such an interest in him. "I've been trying to avoid him lately."

Euphy thinks. "Maybe he's just lonely, did you ever think of that? Or maybe he likes to read." Everything seems to make sense when it's spoken in that gentle, lilting voice of hers. He smiles.

"Yeah. Maybe. I'm still trying to figure out if I should actually write him something, though. I hope he doesn't come after me if I don't." They both laugh a little and he inhales, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I could write about you."

"That's a nice start," she muses, "a story about a princess named Euphemia."

"And a knight named Suzaku. I kind of like it. It sounds charming."

"Not if you make it a smutty story," she giggles. "Turn that in to your professor and see what happens then!"

Suzaku finds himself colored with amusement as he imagines Lamperouge bright red, his hand clamped over his mouth as he stumbles through a dirty story about Suzaku and Euphy. "I can see it now."

They lay there for a while, and eventually she sighs, a little exasperated. "It's five o'clock. I've got to get back to my dorm or my roommate will report me." She looks up at the brunet and they're both shortly distracted by one another before she says, "Suzaku, I love you," and gets up slowly.

He's got his nose crinkled in that childish way and she looks on with a smile. "When can I see you again?" he asks, voice strained.

She winks. "Whenever I feel like dropping in."

––—∞—––

"Lelouch, I bought this chicken a week ago, and it already smells like ass." C.C. glares at the aforementioned poultry, her hands tight on her hips. Lelouch, sitting at the table, focuses on sifting through his magazine. "Hey, Lamperfuck!"

"What?" he says, aggravated. "If it's rotten, throw it out. Simple as that."

C.C. looks him up and down. "You're looking pretty crappy today."

"Thank you." He sips coffee—the only thing that's keeping him up long enough to help C.C. with dinner. Nunnally's upstairs, sleeping—it was her idea to stay here tonight, and of course, he couldn't say no to it. After all, that dorm has been starting to make him feel claustrophobic. "I spent the entire day dealing with those freshmen. I can guarantee you I've got a right to look just a little 'crappy'."

She smiles. "Find anyone cute yet?"

He sighs, "Not really." But thinks about Suzaku, the boy he's so oddly curious about. "Nothing worth mentioning." Because if he brought it up, C.C. would most likely shower him with useless pieces of backwards advice.

She finally pitches the rancid chicken. "Would you like to buy me a pizza, Lulu?"

He cringes at the nickname. "I never like to. And I don't plan on it tonight. Make a frozen one." Immediately she's got her face scrunched up. "You look like a gremlin when you do that."

"You look like a girl," she reminds him, and he goes quiet. She's always won against Lelouch by dangling his sexuality in front of him, because it's the one thing that's so obvious—at least to her—he can't deny it. Still, insulting him never really gets her pizza, so she says, "Fine." And sits down at the table next to him. "We could order Chinese. And you can talked to that cute Chinese delivery boy—what's his name, Li… Li Xingke!"

Lelouch's head hits the table.

––—∞—––


	3. a fixation is born

_The green eyes, you're the one that I wanted to find  
And anyone who tried to deny you, must be out of their mind_

_**violetta 03**_

––—∞—––

A thunderclap startles Suzaku, and he catches himself with a breath, having almost knocked over his glass of orange juice. It's early, seven AM, and while he was sure the weather must have woken Clovis by now, he hasn't seen him yet today. No, it's been the brunet and a copy of the Writer's Digest that he found this morning—evidently, someone had slipped it under the door.

Suzaku finds Lamperouge's eagerness to see him write equally flattering and irritating. The older is obviously well-stocked with good prose—this thick magazine is evidence of that—so again, why would he want to read the trivial works of a college student whose only goal in life is to keep his grandmother off welfare? He doesn't know, and he hasn't written a thing yet, nor does he really plan to. What is there to write about? Rivalz's screwed-up love life, or Euphy, whom words cannot describe?

Then again, he doesn't _have _to write anything. The professor simply suggested it, and that leaves Suzaku freedom to refuse.

He downs his orange juice and gets dressed, greeting Clovis as the other rises groggily from his seventeen-hour nap. They talk shortly of their activities for the day and Suzaku sets out, slipping his room key into his breast pocket as he navigates to the elevator, the thunder still pounding around outside.

In the lobby, he is thankful not to see Gino, but relatively surprised to see Kallen Stadtfeld, a girl whom he sees from time to time. She's standing at the window, her cerulean eyes on the nasty rain. "Hello, Kallen," he says softly.

"Hi, Suzaku." She seems a bit surprised by his greeting. "I didn't know you lived here."

"Well, now you do," he gives her a happy smile and that is the end of the conversation, because Suzaku has left through the front door and opened his umbrella before she can even think. He whistles effervescently as he walks along the sidewalk to the bike rack—but his heart sinks when he realizes his trusty, navy-blue bicycle is missing.

…_Did I lock it up last night? _He asks himself, _after I came back from the meeting. _Immediately he realizes he didn't, that he was too excited about the prospect of Euphy in his dorm to be capable of working a lock._ God. Just give me cancer now. _The formerly cheerful brunet hangs his head, vying under the dual realization that he's lost his only means of transportation between classes, and he can't pay for a new bike—not with the loans for books nagging at the bag of his neck, yet to be paid off. He sighs; swiping his rain-soaked bangs off his forehead, and considers going back inside to sulk before he hears a voice:

"Suzaku, are you all right?" he looks up to see Professor Lamperouge, dressed in a conservative black turtleneck and dark slacks. "From afar, you looked to be contemplating suicide."

Suzaku purses his lips. "My bike was stolen," he explains, looking at the rack where it had once been. "I forgot to lock it up last night and it's my own fault." He shrugs.

"I'm sorry. But there isn't any use fretting over things you can no longer control," muses Lelouch in reply.

_Shut up, you. _"Don't you have a class to teach, Professor Lamperouge?"

Lelouch smirks. "It's Saturday."

"… anyway, I was trying to go to the library."

"Which one?"

"FLAS." FLAS, of course, is an acronym for _Frasier Library of Art and Science. _"I was going to check out a book for Rivalz." It's the truth—the bluenette has been pestering Suzaku to get a book on auto mechanics, since he's been banned from the library for excessive chatter.

"You and Mr. Cardemonde seem to be close," says Lelouch, his tone calm, "but he shouldn't have you running errands like that. It's not something a good friend would do." He thinks maybe Suzaku is a bit of a doormat to his friends, or perhaps he's just nice. Either way, he doesn't seem very assertive. "I could give you a lift, you know, I was headed that way anyway."

Truth be told, Lelouch had plans to buy new silverware for C.C.'s apartment, but she can eat with plastic forks for one more night if it means he has an opportunity to speak with Suzaku.

The boy nods lightly, still wondering where Lamperouge even _came _from. "Thank you," he says tritely, unsure of what to do now. But Lamperouge starts walking, so he follows, hoisting his umbrella to cover them both. "So, uh, how has your teaching experience been so far?" he's making small talk, and that confuses him. Suzaku is usually content as a quiet creature.

"It's been… enlightening," Lelouch says, thinking of the countless ignoramuses he's encountered since his arrival _(and one Japanese boy who's as cute as a button). _"I really was built for teaching, though, so I'm quite comfortable with it."

"That's good. I don't think I could ever be a teacher. I don't think anyone would listen to what I had to say."

"A lot of it is how you say it. You have to learn to be assertive, or if you can't do that, just… frighten them." He smiles softly and Suzaku does the same, floored by how _nervous _he is talking to the man he sees every day and should loathe being in the company of. "What do you plan to do with your future, Suzaku?"

_I hate this question. _Suzaku blinks. "Well, to be honest, I don't have anything planned out." He goes over his talk with the college administrator again in his head, remembering that he'd told her the exact same thing. She'd said she heard that all the time, and the planning part hit later. "I guess you could say I'm playing it by ear."

"It's always nice to keep your options open." There's something whimsical about the way Suzaku walks, as if gravity can't quite force the soles of his feet to the ground. Lelouch is a bit peculiar in his ways of admiration, but the boy does notice that sheen in his eye, and looks at the ground. Lelouch drives a Korean car, a nice model. He unlocks the car and it _blip_s promptly as Suzaku opens the door to the back seat.

"I take it you like to be chauffeured," says Lelouch with a small smile.

"I like riding in the back, is all." Suzaku is flustered by Lamperouge's sudden urge to make conversation - what's he planning? "Do you want me to ride in the front?" The car has been purchased recently; it still has that new-car smell.

"Whatever works." The car starts quietly, its display lighting up blue.

He figures Professor Lamperouge comes from serious money, with those clothes and now this dream machine. It makes Suzaku resent him just a tad more. "So what are you up to today?" he asks, buckling his seatbelt as Lelouch sidles out of his parking space.

"I was going to spend it reading, or maybe visiting my friend C.C.," he says, looking behind him to check for other cars. The coast clear, he goes on, "she lives about a mile off campus." He smiles and Suzaku realizes he's probably talking about his girlfriend. Maybe she's why he's not milking the hot-professor thing for all it's worth.

Campus traffic slows them about five minutes into the drive, Suzaku checking his phone almost constantly for an excuse to avoid Professor Lamperouge's gaze (the older man is watching him through the rearview mirror). He texts Euphy. **Do you want to go out later?**

"Again with that cell phone," he murmurs, smiling as the boy's eyes fly up to meet his. "We're not in class. I really don't care. Relax."

_Are you stupid? Why would you think he'd care? _"Right." Nonetheless, he slips the phone back in his pocket, biting his lip and staring at his shoes. The drive lasts a few more minutes before they pull in, Lelouch irritated as he tries to pick one of the sparse parking spaces. Once they're out of the car, Suzaku says, "Thank you for the ride." And they exchange a gaze he feels is a bit longer than it should be. "Well, see you... in class," he finishes, turning to present his Student ID to the library's door attendant.

Lelouch says, "I don't have to leave right this moment, you know. I could help you find your book." He smiles as strongly as he can, considering the situation, but Suzaku just looks back at him, no particular emotion in those glassy green eyes. "I went to this school once, you know. I spent a lot of time in the libraries."

Suzaku thinks about it. Professor Lamperouge, vying for opportunities to be around him? Why would he do such a thing? _Not unless what Rivalz said is true... _"Sure, thank you. I could use some help." He smiles politely and enters the library, Lamperouge following suit.

He looks through books for about ten minutes, the Professor lingering somewhat nearby. Rivalz said, 'a book that teaches me a lot about cars', so he's looking for a guide of some type. Sadly, Suzaku is distracted by fiction, and finds himself reading an action-adventure novel instead of hunting for his friend's book.

Lelouch is around the corner, staring at Suzaku under the guise of an overlarge magazine. He's not usually this much of a _creeper _(a word Nunnally had started using recently)but he feels like this is the only way he's ever going to see the boy with his guard down. Suzaku smiles brightly at one point in his reading; perhaps he's come across a joke in the novel. He's never seen the boy smile before and he finds himself struck by how handsome he is - before, he'd only thought of him as cute, childish.

The older man wanders away, trying to clear his head. He can't be doing this again, parroting after such a young man - it's never gotten him anything but misfortune. But this is not any of the other men he's become involved with – this one is quiet and brooding, an enigma and a force to be reckoned with. Lelouch has always liked a challenge. He turns back around and heads back into the lion's den, going as far as to kneel next to Suzaku. The brunet, surprised, keeps his eyes glued to his book, but he can't understand a damn word of it now, not with Lamperouge monopolizing his senses like he always seems to do. Lelouch pretends to scan the titles but watches Suzaku through his peripheral vision, acutely aware of the younger's desire - and failure - to ignore him. Perhaps he's not fighting a losing battle after all.

"What are you reading?" Lelouch asks softly, knowing that Suzaku's been reading Dean Koontz's _Velocity. _"You seem quite interested in it."

Suzaku shuts the book. "It's a mystery thriller," he supplies. "I'm thinking about checking it out, but something tells me I should probably find Rivalz's book first." He's speaking more to himself than Lelouch. "I'm not even in the right section, am I." He shakes his head, realizing that he's made a fool of himself in front of the Professor he wants so desperately to win against (win exactly what, he hasn't figured out yet). He makes his way through the scores of bookshelves, finding _Auto Mechanics _near the western edge of the library. All the while, Lelouch has his eyes trained on him, watching his behind undulate through his tight jeans. _Maybe C.C. was right. Maybe I _am _a big pedophile. _Lelouch smiles softly and picks up the book Suzaku left, flicking idly through the pages. This book seems rather predictable, to him, and it is replaced in its spot on the shelf in record time.

The brunet's prize is a thin book wedged at the very end of a high shelf, full of pictures and hands-on guides (things the simple Rivalz would delight in). Satisfied, he begins the trek back to the front desk, checking out the book and taking a drink from the water fountain. He wonders what Lamperouge is doing - _probably reading a home decorating magazine. _Imagining that, Suzaku snorts and takes a seat at one of the Formica tables, pulling his phone out of his pocket and reading Euphy's reply. **Sure, if I've got time. The girls want to go to some kind of wickless candle party tonight, but I'm considering blowing them off.**

He replies with something fairly dull and looks out the window at the falling rain, wondering if Professor Lamperouge is going to make more excuses to spend time with him. For some reason, Suzaku now believes Rivalz, at least a little. What if Lamperouge is gay? It certainly fits, what with his appearance and love for poetry, but then again, you can't always judge a book by its cover. No, he'll have to do a little more investigating before he can jump to any kind of conclusion. _But why do I have to investigate at all? I should spend that time getting a life._

The young Kururugi gets to his feet and begins his search for Professor Lamperouge, finding him fairly quickly in _Self-Help. _However, the raven-haired Professor is not looking through any of the depressing books. He's sitting there, writing something in a journal, which evidently came from his open briefcase. At the sight of Suzaku, he closes it abruptly. "Oh, hello. Sorry I didn't come looking for you." But he doesn't seem very sorry. Once Lelouch has righted his belongings, they leave the library, back into the Hyundai by which they'd gotten there.

"So," Suzaku says in the car, "Why didn't you go and see your friend C.C. today?" he surprises both of them with his boldness; usually, he would pussyfoot around anything he wanted to know.

"Mmmm." Lelouch thinks. "She gets on my nerves after a little while, causing problems for me... and whatnot." He should be starting the car but he finds himself sitting back.

"Is she homemaker type?" Suzaku asks, his voice taking a playful turn for the first time. He thinks of Lelouch on a sofa with his feet up, a pretty young woman at his beck and call. For some reason, it's not too difficult for him to imagine.

"She never lifts a finger," Lelouch says sourly, seeing C.C. lazing around in his mind's eye. "She stuffs her face with pizza, but she doesn't gain a pound. I suspect drugs." But C.C. is too calm to be using any type of amphetamines; she wouldn't even flinch at the news that there was a bomb in her shirt.

"Ah." Suzaku can't see the two of them together; Lelouch would most certainly blow a gasket if there were a single dirty dish, much less a thousand pizza boxes lying around. "Opposites attract, as they say." He closes his eyes, but opens them again when Lamperouge says:

"Attract? I could never find her attractive. She is beautiful, but not to me."

That is the simplest way of putting it, or so Lelouch thinks, because it confuses Suzaku. "So you don't find her attractive... at all? You never could?"

"I suppose I could if I..." _Wait. What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't you dare tell him. All of the students would find out in a hot minute. _"If I didn't see her as a mere sister. We used to date when we were younger." That part is true; but he doesn't mention the reason they broke up. "My opinion of her is different forever."

Evidently, this appeases Suzaku, because he's gone quiet. But in truth, he is thinking. "Oh. So have you been single ever since?"

He chuckles. "What are you implying, Suzaku? That I'm a ruined man because of heartbreak?" But it wasn't Lelouch's heart that was broken; it was C.C.'s. "No, I'm very capable of finding someone. Lately I've been dedicating myself to work is all."

"That's probably the best way of going about it." He smiles kindly at the older man then averts his eyes to his buzzing phone.** Ugh! I'm not allowed to leave campus tonight. :/ How do I make it up to you? Call me tonight. **His heart sinks; he'd been so excited about seeing Euphy. As Lelouch pulls out of the parking lot, they discover that the traffic from earlier has miraculously dispersed, clearing the road for a quick drive. They're back at Nester in ten minutes flat.

Suzaku makes quick work of unbuckling his seatbelt, looking up at Professor Lamperouge with as big a smile as he can muster. "Thank you," he says, opening his door and leaving the Hyundai. "Aren't you going to park?"

Lelouch blinks. "Actually, I... think going to see C.C. might actually be a good idea."

––—∞—––

Some time later, Lelouch watches C.C. dump a hunk of her cooking into the dish in front of him - this looks like it's supposed to be some sort of stew, but with C.C., there are no guarantees. "I take it you defrosted this and stuck it in the microwave."

She stares at him. "If I hadn't, I'd still manipulate you into eating it." And after a moment of gazing wordlessly at one another, Lelouch takes a spoonful and swallows. Surprisingly, it's less-than-radioactive, and actually qualms his cold, empty belly. "See? Not so bad."

"My sister isn't eating this," he says coldly, shaking his head at the plate she's prepared for Nunnally. "Make her something else before she sees it."

"Nunnally had a piece of my pizza earlier. I don't think she'd come back to eat again."

"You _shared _pizza? Lord in heaven," he breathes sarcastically, moving around some of the still-cold vegetables, burying them in the mashed potatoes. "You know, C.C., you could actually be a good cook if you'd get up out of bed every once in a while. You could be good at a lot of things."

C.C. smiles faintly as she watches him eat; he must not have time to get proper food (not that this is gourmet, but it's better than nothing) between his classes. "I spent the day downtown, thank you. I went shopping. That's something I'm good at. What about you? You have any luck in your search for a fuck buddy?" she laughs softly.

"Actually." Lelouch takes a bite of his stew. "There's a young man in my afternoon class. He's an excellent writer but he doesn't seem to care about it."

"A tragedy." She sits down next to him. "What's his name?"

"Suzaku. Suzaku Kururugi. He's the son of the last Japanese Prime Minister He's..." he looks down, looking disgruntled. "He's really quite..." Lelouch is annoyed by the fact that he just can't get the word out, since he's always been fairly straightforward.

Luckily, C.C. bridges the gap, "Cute?" she smiles mischievously, "I wouldn't expect any less from you, Lelouch. Any son of a Prime Minister has got to have good manners, too. I'm surprised at you. You usually go for the troubled ones."

"I've had enough of that," he sighs, remembering how his last few relationships have ended. "I'm just trying to get him to talk. He's very quiet and I don't think he likes me very much."

Her smile never falters. "Yet you still think you've got a chance?"

"Anything can be accomplished with perseverance," he says firmly, "and have I ever failed before? He'll be easy. I just have to make him realize I'm worth his time." He thinks of Suzaku's guarded exterior and wonders just what he needs to do to make the boy drop this - _wall - _that's wedged tightly between them.

She thinks for a moment. "You could always use your usual methods of seduction."

"I don't think that will work. He's different," he says softly, "you'll understand if - _when _you meet him." Because Lelouch never backs down from a challenge, and he'll make Suzaku his. It's locked into him and now it's all he's going to think about - getting that green-eyed Lit student into his bed, or maybe the back seat of his Hyundai. "I promise you that."

"Promise me what?"

Realizing he was speaking more to himself than to C.C., Lelouch replies, "You'll understand when you meet him," and pushes his stew around with his spoon. "He's... very outgoing, I can tell. He just doesn't like me - probably because I'm Britannian."

"That, and because you're a total assface. Lighten up a little, Lelouch. He might like you a little better if you didn't look like you were going to shoot up the place at any given moment," she said coolly, taking his bowl and beginning to eat it herself. "Ask him out."

His mouth falls open. "Are you insane? He's _straight. _And he most likely has a girlfriend. I'm taking this slow, C.C."

"You don't have to say, 'oh, Suzaku, go out on a date with me so we can declare our love for one another and fuck on the table in front of everyone'. You could casually suggest coffee or something. Read him some of your work. Then you're bound to reel him in easy. It's simple." She smiles, satisfied with her plan, but Lelouch isn't so impressed.

"And what happens when he says no? Do I continue watching him and looking for an opportunity to pick him up?"

"He may not say no. Even by straight guys' standards, you're attractive. Bat those eyelashes and he's your man." C.C. takes the now-empty plate and drifts over to the sink, pelting it with hot water. "Don't worry about it, Lelouch." She takes her seat.

"I'm trying as hard as I possibly can not to give a fuck," he says softly, and her eyebrows fly up. Lelouch doesn't usually cuss.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mou—" C.C. freezes, realizing what she's just said, and Lelouch tenses, his eyes like violet ice. "I'm sorry. Slipped my mind."

"Nice save," he says through clenched teeth, and she's surprised he hasn't broken his glass, what with his jaws-of-life grip on it. "I mentioned you to him, by the way. I told him we used to date and that I don't think you're attractive anymore."

"Wonderful," C.C. replies flatly. "Did you tell him I have green hair, too? I prefer to keep that a secret until the first meeting."

"I was trying to drop hints that I didn't find women attractive, period," he explains quietly. "He asked me some things about myself, and why I'm still single. I told him I'm trying to focus on my job."

"Typical Lamperouge bullshit." She smirks.

For a while, the only noise is the subtle ticking of the grandfather clock out in the foyer, and the muffled noises of the television program Nunnally is watching upstairs. Lelouch breathes, trying to forget about Suzaku for a split second, and C.C. thinks of just how sensitive Lelouch is nowadays - probably because of his stress. Even when he was waiting for the University's answer post-interview, the drop of a hat would turn him into a near axe-murderer. Now that he has the job, he's not _better, _but he's less anal, and she's trying to enjoy it while she can-and making disparaging comments about his mother, however accidental, are not helping. She isn't by any means going to watch her tongue with Lelouch, but _that _sensitive topic is worth steering clear of.

Eventually, they wind up talking about his job again and some of the other, less remarkable students, Shirley Fenette the sole focus. He tells C.C. of the redhead's sweltering gazes, and the way she less-than-subtly watches his crotch. She chalks it up to another horny college girl, but he's dead serious when he says he thinks it'll evolve into stalking. They laugh shortly and he says something about how late it's getting. They hug goodbye and he goes upstairs to fetch Nunnally.

"Lelouch!" she says, recognizing the beat of his steps against the ground, not to mention his pronounced vanilla-scent. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Nunnally," he says with a genuine smile, scooping up his sister. Lelouch has never exactly been Mr. Universe, but his sister is relatively easy lifting for him. He walks carefully down the stairs and brings her to her wheelchair, again regretting the lack of an elevator. He doesn't like making Nunnally feel helpless, but in situations like this it cannot be helped.

Once he's back home he gets to work on grading the arguments his afternoon class had turned in earlier. For good measure, he writes each of the students equally bland notes on how he likes their writing style, about how their sentence structure is perfect, so on and so forth. When he comes to Suzaku's paper, he debates on what to write, but settles with just a few words: _I'd like to see more of your work, and you._

––—∞—––

"Lulu gave you a ride?" exclaims Shirley.

"Calm down, don't piss yourself," murmurs Rivalz, who's tapping away at his DS again. "Lamperouge has a crush on our buddy Suzaku, here. Didn't he tell you that?"

Shirley looks appalled. "Lulu's _gay? _Impossible!" she huffs, slamming down her glass of orange soda and making the whole table quiver. "Suzaku, tell him Lulu's not gay!"

"Um." Suzaku stares at his feet. "I don't really know if he is or not. I mean, everything fits, but I - I'm not really sure," he finishes, drinking as an excuse not to speak. The two stare at him.

"Did he put the moves on ya?" Rivalz's eyebrows shoot up and Suzaku is surprised his friends care as much about the situation as he does. "I told you he would, Suzaku, didn't I?" he grins, as if he's won some sort of bet; Shirley's staring at her orange soda, sulking like a kicked puppy.

Suzaku sighs. "No, guys, he didn't hit on me or anything. He just makes me wonder. Let's not talk about it anymore. Let's study," he says, that famous bounciness returning to his voice. Shirley seems compliant, but Rivalz continues on with his DS. "Now, if I mix sodium chloride with - "

"Argh!" Rivalz throws his DS, narrowly missing the television. "Lost again." He looks up and they're both staring at him, shocked. "Sorry, guys. You know how I get about Soul Silver."

"I think you'd be over Pokémon by now. We're in college," Suzaku reminds him, tapping the paper with a pencil to emphasize his point. "Now, Shirley, you didn't answer my question. What happens if I mix sodium chloride with albuterol?"

The redhead shrugs. "I can't focus, Suzaku! I'm stuck on Lulu! What if he really is gay? What do I do then?"

Rivalz deadpans. "You go for a straight man, that's what you do, and then you actually study." He's still miffed about the game. "If you ask me, the only way to find out if Lamperouge is gay is to prove it."

It takes a while for it to sink in. "Wh-are you telling me to pretend to be gay?" Suzaku isn't offended, just surprised. Shirley pipes up:

"Yeah! Then we can know for sure!" her green eyes are twinkling and Rivalz looks mischievous-this is the sign of an incoming bet. Sure enough, she says, "I'll bet you fifty that he's not gay!"

"I'll bet you a hundred that he's going to try and screw Suzaku." Rivalz laughs, but sobers up at his friend's expression. "Sorry, man. But it's_ bound _to end up that way! I can't lose this bet! Do it for me!"

Suzaku huffs, "What happens when he realizes I'm straight? I fail Literature, that's what, and my whole plan gets messed up."

"I didn't say you had to _marry _the guy, sheesh, Suzaku. You could just have a fling with him. Or whatever gay guys call it. You don't have to be his boyfriend...uh. Yeah. Just a fling." He grins hopefully.

"Are you high? I'm not going to pretend to be gay just so you guys can bet on Lamperouge. Use someone else as your guinea pig. I've got a girlfriend." But even as he says all these things, the idea of messing Lamperouge around - of _winning _against him - is festooning around in his head again. "My RA is desperate for sex. Gino Weinberg. Go knock on his door."

Shirley whines. "But Lulu likes _you!_"

"I don't care!" Suzaku nearly breaks his pencil in half. "You guys and your bets. Are you ever going to grow up?"

"Yeesh, wind down. If you're too much of a homophobe to do it, I guess we'll just... forget all about it." Suzaku recognizes this you're-a-chicken tactic and doesn't fall for it, writing quietly on his Chemistry paper. Frustrated, Rivalz snarls, "Oh, come on, just do it! You'll never have to talk to him again after the bet!"

"How about I just _ask _him if he's gay? Would that work?" Suzaku sighs, exasperated. If he has to do this bet, he's going to do it in the least painful way possible.

"I... I guess," Rivalz says, disappointment coloring his voice. "Sure. You can do that." Because in the end, the need for money outweighs the need for excitement in the form of Suzaku's pseudo-homosexuality. "I just hope he doesn't get offended."

"It's a simple question." And with that, Suzaku ends the conversation, picking up his textbook and making his way toward the door. "I'm going downstairs to study. Don't eat everything while I'm gone." But he already knows they will.

––—∞—––

Suzaku is determined. Today he'll ask Professor Lamperouge, and either Rivalz or Shirley will have their money. Then he'll be done with their antics and will have a clear mind. If he's gay, he's gay. If he's not, he's not. It really is that simple...

Lost in thought, he collides with Kallen. After apologizing, he sidles into Professor Lamperouge's classroom, standing while the crowd from the last class disperses. Today, Professor Lamperouge is wearing a white button up with a black blazer and tie. He truly dresses to suit his assets. "Hello, Suzaku," he says, a soft smile overtaking his lips. "How are you?"

"I'm all right." Suzaku stands there awkwardly, pulling at the drawstring on his Ashford Soccer sweatshirt. "I... came here today for..." a bead of sweat pools on his upper lip, and he wonders why it's so damn hard to get the question out.

Lelouch feels his heart go a bit unsteady; what could the boy want? He thinks dreamily of the boy confessing a crush, asking him on a date, or doing any of the other things he's been imagining lately. "I'm here to talk if you need someone to talk to," he says, playing the guidance-counselor card. "I was in college once, too, you know."

_Obviously. _"No, I... came here to ask you something, Professor." He smiles nervously. "It's really not my business at all, but I - I've been wondering about it since the first time I met you. I want to know... Professor... if you're gay." The last three words come out a little louder than Suzaku had originally intended, possibly because he's at a loss for air.

The room is unbearably silent. Lelouch feels his hand clench tight under the table, but above the waist he shows no sign of nervousness. "You're jumped up to step twenty, Suzaku. You and I are only at step five." But his voice is unbearably warm. _What prompted this? _"I could certainly help you if you need to figure some things out."

"I - no, I'm not –" Suzaku cuts himself off. "I just… I wanted to know. It's okay if you don't want to tell me. I respect that." He breathes in. _Sorry guys. Bet's going to take a little while longer. _"Call it a whim. You just struck me as gay."

Lelouch laughs softly, and he hopes it doesn't sound as nervous to Suzaku as it does to him. "A lot of people say that." He sips his coffee for a split second and puts it back down. "But I think it would be a little inappropriate to tell you about my orientation this early in our friendship."

_Hm. Our friendship. _The idea makes Suzaku's heart thump, and while he's trying to figure out why this is, Lamperouge says,

"Do you want to get some coffee with me later? Perhaps I can tell you more about myself, satisfy your curiosity that way." He gives that winsome smile that charms Shirley so easily, and Suzaku realizes that it charms him, too.

"Sure," fumbles out of his mouth. "I'd like that." _No, you wouldn't! Tell him no! This is exactly what you were trying to avoid!_

Lelouch smiles. _I'll have him in bed before sunrise. _"Six?"

Suzaku gives a fraction of a nod and turns around robotically, unable to feel the ground underneath his feet. Did he just make a date with Professor Lamperouge? A teacher, a _guy? _Impossible... but hadn't he been the one with his heart racing, his mouth wide open, so eager when the other gave him a time?

He leans against the wall near the front door of the Saffron Building, almost hyperventilating. Just because he's going on a date with a guy doesn't make him gay. Girls go on movie dates with each other all the time, don't they? But this is his professor, his... regrettably gorgeous professor, who's intelligent and successful and wonderfully verbal...

Suzaku sometimes wishes he could just zap his hormones away.

––—∞—––


	4. where self evaluation is in order

_Since then it's been a book you read in reverse  
So you understand less as the pages turn._

_**violetta 04**_

––—∞—––

Suzaku breathes against his pillow, insides squirming around against the thrum of his pounding heart.

He's not having what is certainly an anxiety attack because Gino ambushed him in the lobby again, or because he stubbed his toe in the elevator, or because he spotted Clovis trying to peddle his Adderall in the lounge. No, Suzaku is flipping major shit because he _may _have just gone on a date with his Brittanian Literature professor, and because said professor _may _have taken advantage of his hormones and pulled him in for a kiss.

But he isn't exactly sure if that happened, because his brain is screwy and the print of everything is blurred. What kind of imbecile would indulge the trivial bets of Rivalz and Shirley, be swindled into – into_ kissing _his professor?

Suzaku, apparently.

It is elementary to control your anger, he reminds himself, but it's not _natural _for him to kiss a man (Suzaku's always been pretty liberal when it comes to gay rights, but he's never been quite ready to take _that_ leap). It hurts him to remember the events of the evening, positively bludgeons his pride into oblivion, if the merciless assault on his University-monogram pillow is any indication.

He stops, not because he is tired but because it's time for some quiet seething - or perhaps plotting the death of a certain man two a few doors over.

What he's trying not to consider is the possibility that he's only angry with himself.

Angry with himself for submitting, for not slapping Lamperouge in the face or at the very least pushing him off; angry with himself for relishing the taste of the Professor's mouth (spit and mint); for the suffocated little mewl that escaped from his nose at the sensation of their lips pressing together.

No, Suzaku subscribes to the school of thought that Lelouch is to blame for his behavior; Lelouch seduced him, and he is at fault. He must be punished.

However, that phrase alone puts images in his mind that almost makes him want to blame himself again.

After cooling down a little, Suzaku scrambles to his feet and flicks on the light, catching sight of himself in the mirror. Predictably, his already-disheveled hair is beyond reproach now. He takes a breath but finds his lungs to be cruelly empty (also Lelouch's fault) and sits on the bed. If he's able to sleep tonight, he won't sleep well, and he'll go into Gottwald's class a member of the walking dead. He reminds himself that he doesn't get much sleep anyway, what with his constant fretting and tendency to have nightmares, but this _incident _is making the others pale in comparison.

He wants to get a hold of Euphy, shove himself somewhere deep south, and just fuck heruntil he's blotted all of the homo-thoughts out of his mind. _Yes, _he thinks triumphantly, _that's a good plan._ But it can't happen tonight.

Suzaku breathes erratically. He still can't believe it. Besides, now that he has Euphy on the brain - can't anything you do with someone else, even kissing, be considered _cheating?_

He moans, shoving the pillow over his face, trying to make it all go away and failing miserably. He's got to go back to the old plan he had, before he hated Lelouch – err, Professor Lamperouge. He's got to switch out of the class and pick up Floral Design or something equally dull, it won't matter. His jaw is hurting because he's had it locked; flexing it, he feels a slight crack. Ouch.

Clovis sidles into the dorm around forty-five minutes later, wearing some kind of odd hat. He flicks on the light and sees Suzaku lying on his bed in the fetal position, his face crushed into a pillow. "Suzaku? Are you sick?"

"Uh." Suzaku replies. "Sort of..."

"Well, I hope you get better," says the other man, still slightly buzzed from his dinner date. "I went out with this girl..."

He goes on to detail his evening, but Suzaku couldn't take in any of it. He just keeps replaying tonight's events in his head, wondering what he could have done to stop Lelouch from doing what he did. If that plan followed through, he wouldn't be absolutely battling himself right now, trying to convince himself that he didn't _like _it.

––—∞—––

_Three hours ago_

––—∞—––

Suzaku curses at himself for not bringing sunglasses, a newspaper - something to hide his face.

It is his own fault that he is meeting the cursed Professor Lamperouge for coffee, but damned if he's going to let anyone know that. He opens a sugar packet and watches the granulated sweetener tumble onto the table in one barely-visible motion, his mouth twisted with irritation. He misses the cup entirely.

_You're being irrational, Suzaku, calm down. Just talk to him._

He tries again with the sugar and makes it this time. This much anger is definitely uncharacteristic to Suzaku, but it's unavoidable now; he feels like a failure for being coaxed into this by a particular blue-haired idiot and his sex-crazed best friend. Just as he is contemplating a quick, painless suicide, a smooth sound fills his ears:

"I figured I would get here before you, Suzaku, considering. You're a fast walker." Lamperouge looks perfect as always, none of the trappings of anxiety present on him as they are on Suzaku. Little does the brunet know Lelouch is late because C.C. misplaced the iron - and he has spent the last half hour tearing through her apartment before finally finding it under a pile of dirty laundry.

"I came early," bites out the brunet, but Lelouch doesn't quite catch the snappishness in his voice, because he's too busy eyeballing him. This is the first time he's seen Suzaku in anything other than a T-shirt or sweater, and he rather likes the change. This shirt clings to Suzaku's lean midsection, and cornflower blue certainly does compliment him. Lelouch has always been good at assessing what colors look good on people (because the obsessive-compulsive complex within him just can't be put to rest). Suzaku is an autumn, with bronze-hued skin darker than that of most Japanese, a prominent collarbone and Adam's apple (the latter of which bobs a bit under Lelouch's gaze).

The professor himself is wearing a black sweater over a violet dress shirt, an outfit a bit too warm for such weather, but it suits his taste all the same. He doesn't like short sleeves, because while his ivory skin isn't particularly a bother to him, it doesn't exactly overshadow his elbows or protruding wrists.

The writer in him, the character-shaper and dynamic diviner, is pleased by how their physical dynamics are so flatly opposite, much like their personalities, but in this, he realizes he's just spent a full five minutes surveying color schemes and skin tones versus muscle mass, and curses himself for being so attentive.

"So, Suzaku. We're here to get to know one another, aren't we? I'll go first. I was born here in Pendragon."

"I was born in Japan."_ Because that's not obvious. _"I'm an only child."

Lelouch smiles wryly. "If only I were so lucky. I have thirteen siblings."

If Suzaku had been drinking his coffee, he's sure he would have choked on it. "Thirteen?" he asked, the anger gone from his voice for the first time. "Wow."

A pearly hand reaches up so Lelouch can swipe his bangs off his forehead. "I probably have more than that by now. Of course, most of them are half-siblings. My father is older, he's been married a number of times. He's quite the womanizer." His brow crinkles. _A number of times _normally refers to a man who's said _I do _three or four times, certainly not over one hundred like Charles.

Suzaku vaguely remembers his parents arguing over an affair Genbu had had, not long after his induction as Prime Minister. He hadn't known what they'd been talking about back then, but a re-read of some childhood journals painted the picture quite clearly. "Mine too I guess. Uh… I'm a Cancer," he supplies, letting free the first quip of information that comes to mind.

"Sagittarius." Lelouch waves over a waitress. "May I have black coffee?"

She pops a bubble and writes his order down. "Be right back."

Suzaku recognizes the pink-haired waitress - Anya, his mind supplies. He returns to what is quickly becoming a coping method - staring into his coffee, and he searches his mental annex for anything that could possibly jump-start a sexual orientation-related conversation with Professor Lamperouge.

Unsurprisingly, he finds nothing, but his desire to find the answer is somewhat overshadowed by a need to learn more about the professor. It isn't exactly unprecedented – thus far, he's learned that he has over thirteen siblings. That should be enough to flip the curiosity switch. Besides, how many opportunities has he ever had to sit down with a teacher?

"Have you always wanted to teach Literature?"

"I originally planned to go to law school, but you know how things change." Lelouch had been too busy taking care of Nunnally, then ten, to put up with the torrential studying and coursework that came with being a law student. He was very studious, but in the end, the dual responsibility was too much for him to handle.

"Yeah. Law would be boring." He thinks of Clovis, who likens his law textbooks to the Bible, and smiles faintly.

"Besides, Literature is more rewarding in the long run, don't you find? You spend your time reading and expanding your mind, not poring over a book full of regulations."

He sips his coffee, immediately patting away any excess on his lips with one of the thin napkins. Suzaku is oddly enthralled by the action; Lelouch has thin, pale lips, almost like a woman's. "You went to Pendragon High School, did you not?"

Suzaku puts more sugar in his cup. "Longest four years of my life."

"I finished high school in two. Even that was an exercise in misery." He thinks back on it, brow furrowed, then turns his attention to Suzaku once more. "Why did _you_ choose Literature for a major?"

_These damn majors. _"I always thought reading was important. Besides, it was the only thing my grandmother would agree on besides Economics." He recalls their sitting at the kitchen counter, poring over the many pamphlets Suzaku had received in the mail. Maneha had tittered endlessly about every single one, and it was certainly irritating, but on the other hand, he was glad she cared.

"I take it statistics aren't your cup of tea?" Lelouch says, amused but unsurprised. While he doesn't seem unintelligent, Suzaku doesn't strike him as a big thinker. "I find them fascinating."

"Yeah, well, that's your opinion," Suzaku quips, nostrils flaring. "Anyway, back to the questions. You said you have thirteen brothers and sisters?" his voice is sharp now, and thoughts of the bet have all but disintegrated. It is truly amazing how Professor Lamperouge affects him; he doesn't really want to think about it too much, though.

"Eight sisters and five brothers," Lelouch says, his voice weary. "Most of them are much older than I am."

"Your favorite is Nunnally, though." The brunet remembers the way Lelouch's face lit up at the sight of his younger sister, and the gentle tone his usually condescending voice took on in her presence.

Lelouch smiles. "Yes, you're right." They sit in silence for a few minutes, Lelouch stirring his coffee (though he hasn't added anything to it) and Suzaku watching him intently. It's a comical scene, but they're both so deeply engrained neither of them takes any notice. "Where do you see yourself in five years?"

"Professor, I told you before that I'm not too sure about that."

"You can call me Lelouch, you know," he says in a low voice, his violet pools alight with the promise of seeing Suzaku blush again.

And he gets what he wants; the brunet's cheeks stain. "Alright. Lelouch..." _It's okay for you to call him that, God. Students call professors by their first names all the time. In movies anyway. _"I don't know anything about my future," he repeats promptly, "my father always told me that I should work up to being Prime Minister, like he did. But-"

"But you're the classic child of a man in power - wanting the exact opposite." Lelouch would know, after all.

"…Right."

Suzaku's floored by Lelouch's unfailing ability to know exactly what he's about to say. Floored and irritated. He fiddles with the button on his shirt, teeth coming down on his bottom lip with such intensity that he might just bite through it. Why is he so wound up? Lelouch is just his might-be-a-homo mind reader lit Professor, who's about as physically intimidating as a slice of bread. He doesn't understand why the man makes these cold prickles crop up on his spine with every word he says, or why he makes his voice box fizzle out and die.

All he knows is he had better get him talking again soon. "So you're how old exactly?

Lelouch's thin eyebrows rise. Half amused, half-insulted, he says, "I'm thirty." He chuckles. "Do I look old?"

"I didn't mean to insult you," Suzaku hastens. _You're a mess, just stop talking. _"Sorry."

"It's alright, Suzaku. You're allowed to ask things like that." Lelouch slides his empty coffee cup to the edge of the table, presumably for the waitress to pick it up. He also peels a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet. "I've had enough of this place. Do you want to go for a walk?"

Surprised by the request, Suzaku blinks and stares dumbly at him for a moment. "Sure," he finally says, getting to his feet, not stopping the professor from paying for his coffee. After all, all the money he has is going to stay in his buy-a-new-bike fund. "Where to?"

"Anywhere." The raven-haired man stands and Suzaku follows him out of the cafe, surprised by just how pleasantly cool it is - autumn, he reminds himself, is not too far away. Lelouch is ahead of him at first but then they fall into step beside one another; Suzaku isn't sure if this was entirely a subconscious move on his part, because it's becoming more and more clear to him that he wants to be near the older male. This frightens him a little.

Lelouch seems slightly out of breath once they begin to travel uphill. "So, Suzaku – do you, ahm, play any sports?"

_You certainly don't. "_I used to play soccer," he replies, watching the other stop to catch his breath near a stop sign with an amused smile. "Are you okay, Lelouch?" the name feels strange on his tongue, but in a nice way.

"I'm fine," Lelouch replies, his breath short. "I'm fine." He smiles and that pomposity is setting in again, only absent when he was at a slight loss for oxygen. "Brains will do you more good than brawn in this world, anyway. You shouldn't put all your stock in those muscles." His eyes rove subtly over the boy's body, flickering enough to stave off his noticing. Suzaku has long legs, and he surmises that they are as muscular as the rest of him – not that anyone knows. He must really love blue jeans.

"I don't," Suzaku assures him. "Strength is something to be valued. Sure, I can't get a big head about it, but it's a good thing." He's finding it easier to talk to Lelouch now that he doesn't want to cut his head off. Quite so much.

Lelouch, momentarily dazed by the other's dimply grin, replies, "I see," in a dreamy sort of voice. He's thirty years old and he's still so damn fazed by something as mundane as a cute face - obsessive-compulsive disorder can't be the only thing wrong up there. "At any rate, what do you want to talk about now? I thought the purpose of this meeting was for us to get to know one another." He purposely avoids the word _date _to keep Suzaku calm; the boy is for the most part placid, but he seems as if he'd explode in an instant if rubbed the wrong way.

Suzaku walks a bit faster. They're going downhill now, so it's easier for Lelouch to keep up. "Right. How's your friend C.C.? What's the story there?"

He's struck gold; Lelouch feels a knot twist his stomach. "Well, we… used to date," he finishes lamely, starting to walk again. Suzaku is following with a pronounced spring in his step; why is the boy so determined to find out if he's gay? Does he take sick pleasure in toying with the emotions of authority figures? He's damn good at it, regardless. "But you already know that. I lost interest in her," he adds, figuring that will qualm Suzaku's sudden curiosity.

He's wrong.

"Just like that?"

"Yes." Something in Lelouch's tone closes the subject, and Suzaku finds himself irritated once more. Why does the he find it so difficult to talk about C.C.? Regardless, pestering him is not the way to get information. He must be rational, but then again, this entire situation is completely irrational, down to every silly little question he asks the professor. The fact that he's hiding his orientation in itself serves as proof.

They walk in silence for another minute or so before Lelouch asks: "Would you mind telling me what prompted you to storm into my classroom yesterday and ask me about my orientation?" he watches as Suzaku's face reddens.

_What the - he read my mind! _Suzaku bites his lip, feeling his lungs rid themselves of oxygen, and sucks a breath in through his teeth. "My friends wanted to know," he replies breathlessly, almost suffocating under Lelouch's always-probing violet eyes.

"Letting your friends use you again. Why do you do that, Suzaku?" Lelouch's face softens and he watches the brunet look down at his feet. When a few moments have passed and the boy still hasn't answered, he says, "I suppose it must be because you don't want to lose them."

_So you think. _"I came because I was curious about you too," he says, looking up into his eyes for the first time, and watching Lelouch's expression transpose. "I want to know about that b - because I think you're interested in me. You're, uh, not exactly subtle and I hope you know that." Suzaku finishes with a huff of breath. It's not like him to put someone on the spot like this, but he wants to prove that he is most certainly _not _a pushover.

"Well, Suzaku, I can think of only one sensible way to answer your question."

Funny thing about it is, the first time they kissed, Suzaku never quite saw Lelouch's face approach him – nor did he really understand what was going on until he tasted his mouth. He would think Lelouch would have cold lips, but it's really quite the opposite, and his own face is heating up as well.

He begins to pull back, hearing a wet noise from the suction of their mouths, but suddenly there's something stopping him. Lelouch's hand against the back of his head. A single word, or rather, a mushed together repetition of the same word, is the only thought he processes.

_Nonono __**no—**_

(The worst part about it is, he's strong enough to push Lelouch away. Strong enough to make him regret ever doing this. But reader, he does neither of these things.)

Then he feels a tongue begin to poke and slide gently against his lips and he _lets _it in – _what the fuck is the matter with you – _and his own is sliding and rubbing against it, and his eyes are closing, and is that Lelouch's head swiveling to deepen it – ?

Suzaku sucks in a breath and finally, _finally _musters enough conscience to end the kiss. (Because seriously. What the fuck.) Lelouch's mouth is wet. "What the _f_–"

"What's that?" Lelouch interrupts.

"I..." the younger breathes heavily. "I just..." he tries not to meet the other's eyes - the portion of them that's open, anyway - because he knows he'll have a heart attack if he does. He's just kissed Lelouch - the phrase makes his stomach constrict - and for once, he doesn't know what to do. "That was a mistake."

"How so? You got your answer." Lelouch's voice is unbearably calm, considering the torrential excitement that's coursing white-hot through his chest. He's heard the 'this is a mistake' argument before and it can be easily overcome.

_My answer. Right. _Suzaku tries to smile but all he can come up with is a grimace. Why hasn't he punched the professor's lights out yet? "I'm sorry, Lelouch, I just can't do this with you. I have a girlfriend. I'm sorry if I led you on." Even though he didn't. He certainly didn't. "I hope we can still be friends." Oh, yeah right. Floral Design. Where does he go to pick up Floral Design? The Admissions office?

"Of course." The older male smiles at him, trying to emote with his eyes, and succeeding, considering the blush that crops up on Suzaku's already hot face. "When can I see you again?"

Suzaku blinks. _It's like he didn't even hear what I said! _"I misled you."

Lelouch snorts. "You kissed me back."

Suzaku just looks at him, mouth agape. "It was a mistake. I don't date men. I don't even like men like that."

"I'm not saying we have to go on a date. Was this a date?" but after he says that, Lelouch curses himself inwardly, since this turned out much more like a date than Suzaku must've predicted, "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I'm truly sorry." Feeling bold, he places a comforting hand on Suzaku's shoulder, watching the brunet's forest eyes drift to it. He seems enthralled (though really quite disgusted, but that part will fade in time); curious, and that's what the older man is counting on. "But I don't want this to be the last of us; I'm perfectly okay with a platonic relationship." _At least until I talk your pants off. _"Are you?"

"Sure." the other says in a strangled little breath, truly unable to think over the pounding of his heart. His mind is upside-down and this is absolutely ludicrous and oh god, _Euphy – _"I'm okay with that.." he's silently willing Lelouch to remove his hand, but at the same time he can't bear the thought. It's as if an archer has the bow poised, ready to shoot him, and he's in that moment of intense fear, where everything's nothing and he can't function.

Sensing the other's discomfort, Lelouch drops the hand. "Again, I apologize. I had no right to take advantage of you that way-" _even though I enjoyed every moment of it -"_And I'd like to repay you somehow. With dinner. Wednesday night. Do you know where the French Quarter is?"

_I swear to god, I'm fucking crazy. _"I'll think about it." His voice is as cold as he can manage. This isn't very. _Why can't I tell him no? Say I'm busy? Grow a fucking pair? _"I'll see you tomorrow, then." Suzaku makes to walk away, but his stomach drops when he remembers he has no means of transportation. Face hot, he turns to see Lelouch jingling his keys,

_(you can't get away from me that easy)_

"I'll give you a ride."

––—∞—––

And that, reader, is why Suzaku might soon be considering suicide.

Because no matter how many times he chastises himself, it happened anyway. It happened and there's really no going back. He has a - a _crush _on Lelouch. It all happened so fast - the coffee, the walk, the - the -

He wants to throw up, because he knows it's true. He'd gone from trying to push him away to throwing himself at him, then trying to take it back... and the thought of how wonderful it all was, to kiss Lelouch, is what's hurting him most of all. He's not gay, he can't even be bisexual. He's too fond of the opposite sex. This was a one-time thing, he was just horny and caught in the moment - or that's what he's telling himself, at least. He'll go and visit Euphy, get it all out of his system, and see Lelouch with platonic eyes from now on. Yeah. This is just a little hiccup. It's college! He's supposed to go wild and make out with men!

Well, maybe not. But the thought calms him a little.

In his peripheral vision, he sees the glaring red numerals of his bedside clock - upon further inspection, it's 1:29 AM. Where did all that time go? Has he been lying here angsting over this for four hours? Probably, considering all the angles from which he tried to approach the situation. If anyone asks, he'll just tell them he was drunk - but no one will ask, because he's not going to tell anyone. He'll just tell Rivalz that he's won the bet and then they can forget about everything.

...after his dinner with Lelouch on Wednesday. As 'just friends'.

The Japanese youth bludgeons his pillow a bit more and then trudges to the bathroom. He takes a few Benadryl then sinks back onto his bed, hoping the antihistamine will knock him out. Sleep hits him in the face not long afterward.

––—∞—––

"Suzaku. Suzaku. Suzakuuuuuuu."

"What?" he says, a bit snappishly, and it takes him a minute to realize that he's affronted Rivalz, who was trying to pull him out of a daze. "Sorry. I just didn't get much sleep."

"Up late studying?" he guesses.

"Might've been." _Or it might have been what took place on 53rd street. Either one of those things could've contributed to my lack of sleep. _"I'm going to try and pay attention." They're in Astronomy, a class he doesn't much care for and basically treats as study hall. Their professor is a seventy-something who prattles on about the heavens in a voice that sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and could truly care less if a student chose to talk the entire time.

Suzaku opens his notebook and finds the note from Shirley about nicknaming Lelouch 'Lulu '- he crumples it up and lets it fall to the ground, scrawling his name at the top of the next empty page and focusing his gaze on the star charts. It's awful how quickly he loses interest, but not at all surprising. He writes to Rivalz,

_Sorry I yelled at you just now.  
You won the bet, by the way._

Upon reading it, he sees how the bluenette's face lights up.

**Did I? Yes! Shirley can suck it. How did he tell you? **he slides the note back across the desk, and Suzaku huffs a breath, _He...didn't... well, he didn't come right out and say it. You know him, he likes the symbolism. _He can't decide whether to tell Rivalz about the kiss or not - he's been yearning to tell _someone, _get some advice. But then again, does he really want anyone knowing? It could get around..

**Oh, so he used a metaphor or something?**

_Yeah. Sort of. He hinted around it for a little while.  
I did get him to tell me, though._

**That's good. Ha! I win. A hundred, Suzaku, pay up. After Lamperouge's class.**

_Will do. You won fair and square._

**I knew I would. I always do.**

Suzaku takes a breath. Here's to letting things slip.

_So uh, something fucked up happened._

**What's that? **Rivalz's notes come with less frequency now, since his eyes are on a curvy girl in the front row. That won't last very long, considering the next message.

_He kissed me._

Russet eyes almost pop out of their sockets, and the shorter boy gapes at the note for a few moments. Once he has his wits about him, he scrawls a reply, handwriting a bit jumbled.

**Whoa, really? That's got to suck. Did you let him down easy?  
You can't reject a professor badly or your grades are gonna plummet.**

_I guess I did._

**You guess?**

_What're you asking me?_

**Did you kiss the guy back?**

Suzaku sits, pen poised, for much longer than usual. Eventually, he just shoves the note back in Rivalz's direction, struggling to avoid eye contact.

Rivalz's face isn't visible, but the Suzaku is almost certain his mouth is open in disbelief. A few minutes pass before he finally writes back,

**You know I don't care if you're gay, right? I mean, it would take some getting used to, but we're pals, it's not gonna change a thing. How are you going to tell Euphy?**

_Tell Euphy what? I'm not like that! I'd had a few drinks, it was a mistake._

**Alright, but... whoa.**

They don't conversate for the rest of class, but Rivalz doesn't seem mad at him, which is good. Then again, why would he be? The bluenette has always been very accepting of all Suzaku's choices, whether it be Euphy or his opinions on politics. Suzaku realizes that sometimes he takes Rivalz for granted, that he really is a good friend, and that most guys would probably be creeped out by something like this. "Hey," he finally says. "Don't tell Shirley."

"Gotcha." Rivalz smiles, but Suzaku can tell he's saddened by the loss of a piece of gossip he would have undoubtedly blabbed to anyone who would've listened. As mentioned, Rivalz is accepting of most things, but damned if he doesn't tell the whole free world about them.

After Astronomy is Literature - the only two classes he has back-to-back (which is annoying, because he doesn't have time to mentally prepare for seeing Lelouch). The Astronomy center was within walking distance, but the Saffron Building certainly isn't. "Hey, Rivalz, can you give me a lift?"

"Sure."

Rivalz is slowed by traffic almost as quickly as they pull off the curb, and they talk offhandedly about classes, and Shirley, who's still a mystery despite being so simple. They don't mention Lelouch and Suzaku is thankful; he doesn't want to think about him more than he has to, and he's trying to forget that they have another meeting (date) two days from now. He can have a crush on someone and never act on it - high school taught him that. And that's exactly what he plans to do here.

Whenever they enter, Shirley's waiting in the doorway, nearly jumping up and down with anticipation. "Well? What's the verdict?"

Rivalz and Suzaku exchange a knowing gaze. "He's gay," says the bluenette triumphantly, and Shirley deflates without missing a beat. She makes a sad noise and shuffles over to her seat. Suzaku can't tell what's depressing her more; the fact that she's lost the money or the possibility of screwing Lelouch. It'll blow over and she'll have a new obsession in a few days.

Suzaku's own enters the room around five minutes later, messing with the clasp on his briefcase; it appears to be broken, and if he knows anything about Lelouch, the clasp is annoying him a lot more than it should. He slides it onto the desk, probably unaware that Suzaku is analyzing his every move, and takes a seat.

"Good afternoon," he says in that constantly calm drawl, and a handful of students respond with their weak repetition of 'good afternoon'. The brunet looks pointedly at Lelouch but he does not seem to notice, nor is he making it a point to find Suzaku in the crowd. "Now, have any of you figured out how to use passive voice yet?" with no response, he turns on the projector and begins his lecture.

_What the hell is this? I try to get away from him and he's all over me, now I make an effort and he bails? _Suzaku frowns at his notebook, though it's done nothing to him, and almost does a faceplant onto the deskin front of him. _Wait, whatever happened to forgetting all about this? _"Professor?"

The older man stops in the middle of his sentence, his eyes flying up to Suzaku, and he can't stop the smile that takes over his face. "Yes?"

And the brunet's mind has been reduced to mashed potatoes. "I… nothing, I lost my train of thought." He resists the urge to beat himself over the head with his notebook. Mostly because Rivalz is using it and he can't be bothered to ask for it back.

Lelouch keeps his eyes trained on Suzaku. He looks very cute today, his chestnut hair windswept as always, big green eyes confused and enamored at the same time. "A shame," he says, then picks up the point he'd been relaying. All the while, though, he thinks of the boy six rows up, catching his eye whenever he can.

Lately the Japanese youth has monopolized his mind, a carnal pull on his whole being. He wants him, badly and it's something different from what he's felt with any of his previous conquests - the subtle eye-battles they have, that wall of Suzaku's that wants so badly to be bulldozed - that's what has him so hell-bent on this. Suzaku is such a virgin it's almost criminal – Lelouch is sure he's had sex before, being nineteen, but he's clearly never experienced it with a man. _Experience is the best teacher, _Lelouch thinks as he watches Suzaku stare at the projector.

At the end of class, Suzaku sits and laughs about something with that Cardemonde boy, (a bit less tense now) his big eyes narrowing and glimmering prettily with mirth. Lelouch is watching from his desk, biting into a green apple. He watches the boy leave and sighs quietly.

Work, work, work. He has so much to read – the week before, he had assigned an essay in which the students were supposed to write about not only themselves, but the person they hope college will help them become. He'd Xeroxed it out of an old textbook C.C. had found in his storage closet.

He looks up to see the time, and finds himself blinking repeatedly. There is Suzaku, reading a poster on the wall near the door. "Suzaku."

"Professor." Suzaku frowns when they make eye contact, then approaches the desk. This looks like it's going to be a serious visit. "Do you have a minute?"

"Lelouch," the he corrects in a low voice, "I told you to call me Lelouch." But he smiles at the brunet. "Did you want to talk about something?"

Suzaku shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then squares his jaw. "I guess there's no way to get around it. I want to talk to you about last might."

"You thought it was a mistake."

He's having so much trouble with this. Lelouch can see it on his face. "I... yes, I did. I still do. I just – I feel like – mmf." His voice has suddenly become soft, so vulnerable that Lelouch nearly swoons at the sound of it. Suzaku is truly adorable, and the damn fool doesn't even know it. "But the fact remains that I have a girlfriend." his voice gains volume and strength, his green eyes suddenly hard. "I don't even know why I came to talk to you about this."

_(Because it's your fucking fault I feel like this.)_

Lelouch presses his lips together. "Have you considered identifying as bisexual?" which is where he started out, "or simply bi-curious? It doesn't make you any less of a man, Suzaku."

_I love Euphy. _"I really don't think this is an orientation thing, Lelouch. I just don't see why you'd want to come after me of all people. Trust me, I really don't like men. Last night was an error in judgment for me. I'm sorry if I led you on."

"Are you telling me, or yourself? We cleared this up already. And yet here you are again, trying to drill the point into my head. Personally, I think this is you trying to convince yourself you didn't like it." Lelouch bites his apple.

Suzaku stares. He didn't think it could be that simple until now, when he's hearing it from the mouth of the man who caused the whole damn mess. While eating fruit. How annoyingly casual. "I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything," the other replies smoothly, taking off his glasses. "You're confused, I understand. I can talk to you about it whenever you want, as I've said before. Don't fret over something so simple. It's perfectly normal for you to want to explore other… things."

"That's easy for you to say," Suzaku says, "You're not the one with a girlfriend."

"If I had a girlfriend, I'd be just as miserable as you." Lelouch says with a smile, throwing his spent apple into the garbage. He rises from the desk and approaches Suzaku. "Now. Back to the beginning. You may not like men as a whole, but you seem to like me."

"Do I?"

"I've seen it. You blush when I'm close to you. Why, you're doing it now. And last night – you kissed me back, and looked damn sure you liked it, too."

Suzaku's stomach feels cold and empty and now it's twisting into knots. He frowns. "I already told you – it isn't like that. I missed my girlfriend. You can't judge me for being human." _Do I really… blush? _"And if you want me to stay in your class – "

"Hold that thought, Suzaku." Lelouch adjusts his tie, tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "The way I see it, there are two options here. We can keep arguing and having these denial-ridden conversations about how sexually frustrated you are, or we could get along."

"That's what I've been trying to do!" Suzaku's hands fly up. "You just like teasing me about this too much, Profes – mm—"

The second time, he very much saw it coming: the way Lelouch sort of swayed toward him, the way Lelouch's eyes narrowed – and most of all the way Lelouch's hand shoved his head forward. When his mouth opened in surprise, the professor took the opportunity to push his tongue in.

This one ends much faster than the last. "I told you I –"

"Suzaku." The name is a hot puff of air against his lips; Suzaku's chest heaves. He's never seen Lelouch's eyes this close before, and his breath holds a whiff of that green apple he'd been eating. He also smells mint, just like before, and something else – but there isn't any more time to contemplate.

Their noses knock briefly when the kiss resumes, this time much longer (both of Lelouch's hands on the back of his head; one of his own limply clutching the nametag that dangles around the professor's neck).

It has stopped mattering, all of it, the wrongness of it, everything he has against the idea – all paling in comparison to his new, frightening need to continue.

For just a second when they separate, there is a tiny fragment of conversation.

("_Is this… okay?")  
("—yes.")_

And Lelouch is all over him now, threading his fingers through his hair, kissing him harder, losing all semblance of restraint he had before.

The brunet kisses back the way he has always kissed Euphemia – but then she never fights back the way Lelouch does, their teeth clinking together as the professor sucks gently on his tongue. Suzaku can't help but slip his eyes open, and becomes utterly enraptured with the sight of the Lelouch, long-lashed eyes shut, cheeks working as their tongues tussle inside Suzaku's mouth – but somehow, he still remains so composed, even as he dips his head to kiss Suzaku just under the chin.

Then Suzaku can't help but say something. "I – let me – wow. Really." His voice is weak. "You – you can seriously kiss."

Lelouch merely looks at him. "Thank you, I suppose." He grasps the collar of Suzaku's shirt and moves forward again, but –

"I just…" he sucks in a breath and turns away, and the fabric slips from between the professor's fingers. "I just can't do this. Not – now. Not while I'm in a relationship. I'm not a cheater."

Eyes follow Suzaku as he crosses the room, looking from poster to window to potted plant as if they will give him answers. "Are you sold on the idea that she's being faithful to you?"

"She's at an all-girls school," Suzaku replies incredulously.

"That doesn't mean anything."

A long sigh. The boy looks back at him, finally, and Lelouch's heart falters for a moment – he sees _fear _in those eyes. "Please. I really feel sick. I'm going to be sick. I can't."

Lelouch looks at the apple core in the garbage. He can't see Suzaku's face like that. "I told you we can take it plenty slow. Keep things platonic – or mostly platonic." He runs his tongue across his mouth. "I understand what you're feeling."

"No you don't." There it is again, that strange brand of Suzaku-aggression. "If you want to be my friend so badly, you'll listen to me when I say I want you to just be that." His look is questioning, expectant even, even though he seems to be shaking. Maybe Lelouch is imagining that part. "All right?"

The older looks at him for a long while. What makes Suzaku think he can possibly just sit here and _reject _him like this? Even after he so _plainly _wanted it? Moreover, if he's so disgusted by the idea of Lelouch – "Why haven't you run out of here yet, Suzaku? Clearly you're not completely opposed to me if you still want to be friends… even after - " he stops for a moment, drinking in the look Suzaku's giving him, unable to come up with any adjectives that describe it. All he knows is that he feels just a bit bad about all of this. "Even after you've betrayed your girlfriend twice already?"

Silence.

"Either you reject me or keep giving in to me… you can't have it both ways. You know that, don't you Suzaku?"

Suzaku's jaw juts unpleasantly, but he doesn't say a thing about that. "If I'm going to dinner with you Wednesday, you need to be my ride." The brunet pulls on his hood – it's raining now, rather hard in fact.

"Eight o'clock…" Lelouch trails off, still watching the boy. (It's become one of his favorite pastimes.) "However angry you're going to act with me, I know you're really just angry with yourself."

Still, the Japanese boy makes no move to retort. His frown, however, softens, and he looks more miserable than anything. "Eight. I'll be ready."

––—∞—––

"I'm telling you, we could start a band, make it big... live in a big condo, have fun with it! Me, you, and Shirley!" Rivalz presses, despite the fact that he's been pressing the we-could-be-rock-stars fantasy on his best friend for twenty minutes and it's gotten him nowhere. "Rivalz and the Jets!"

_Shut the hell up. I already wish I was dead. _Suzaku deadpans. "Rivalz, please." He turns over and pulls his blanket over his head. "Besides, Shirley and the Jets sounds cooler. People like bands with girl singers." He's spouting off random things to get Rivalz to can it, because for the past hour or so, Suzaku's head has been spinning.

"Yeahhhh, but really! I've got a killer set of pipes," Rivalz reminds him, and for a moment, Suzaku fears he's going to start singing again. "Haven't you always wanted to be a rock star? Girls think it's hot, you know."

"I know," Suzaku says, harried. "But it's not all about girls thinking you're hot, you know. You've got to convey a message to your fans."

"You sound like Professor Lamperouge," says Rivalz with a smirk, watching Suzaku's eyes shoot open. "Ha-ha, I knew _that _would get you up!"

Suzaku bristles. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demands. Rivalz is such an ass. But then again, maybe he does sound sort of like Lelouch, applying whimsical ideas to general conversation, and looking prissy doing it. "Shut up," he adds lamely, ramming a pillow over his face and throwing himself back down onto the couch. Rivalz watches him with a grin. He's got a feeling something else happened between them, but of course, the steel wall here won't relay any further information. He'll angst over it for a little while, then slowly come to let things happen, then he'll be open about it. That's the way he's always been with his secrets.

"Ah, alright. But come on, you know you've got me wondering about you two. It's classic. You're in denial over being gay, and he's the older man, schooling you in literature as well as love~" Rivalz takes on a Shirley-esque voice for this monologue, "And you act like you hate him, but secretly you've got these wet dreams, and before you know it-owww!" Rivalz breaks off his voice dropping a few octaves, because he's been socked in the head with the pillow, as well as Suzaku's fist. "Fine, fine! I won't talk about it anymore."

"Good," Suzaku says, sitting up and raking a hand through his hair. "Because I really don't wanna hear what you _think _is happening between me and Lelouch. Last night was the end of it, sorry." He just can't_ look _at Rivalz right now – he's too busy re-playing it in his head, hearing Lelouch's words (_"You can't have it both ways") _over and over again, and icing over the way he'd reciprocated so enthusiastically, sighing into the kiss, in utter heaven. And how quickly it had become hell.

"Nah, can't say I believe that, but I guess I'll humor you." Rivalz ruffles Suzaku's hair and watches his frown intensify. "Love you, man."

"Sure you're not a little on the gay side?"

"Pos-it-tive," Rivalz assures him. "Though if I were, I'd make you hang out with me anyway. Maybe I could go on a date with Lamperouge." He watches Suzaku's face tighten for a moment, then go back to normal, as he's trying to hide it. "Okay, I get it, _Lelouch _is off-limits."

Suzaku's beyond arguing; he just throws the pillow at Rivalz again.

––—∞—––

"This is your dorm?" C.C. twists her nose. "It's so small. If you're a professor, why are you staying in the smallest damn place they've got?" she sits down on Lelouch's less-than-wonderful mattress, noting the suitcase at the corner of the room. "And you haven't even unpacked yet! What am I going to do with you?"

"Nothing, those are my spare clothes. In case I have another accident with coffee." Lelouch frowns as he remembers the day he scorched his junk, and silently vows to always use a thermos from now on. Nunnally giggles from her spot in the corner and he can't help but smile a tiny bit.

"My brother's going crazy lately," she tells the greenette, "He's always out pacing the hallway, like he's lost something." She can't see him, but Lelouch is blinking, surprised. He's always been rather silly and oblivious. "I think he's lonely."

"Aw, lonely Lulu~" C.C. grabs him and strokes his hair, and he can't escape her, despite his best efforts. This is one of those moments where Lelouch curses genetics for making him such a wimp. Thankfully, she lets him go, and he's free to open his underwear drawer - where he keeps the liquor. "Made any headway with Suzaku yet?"

He glares at her, a silent reminder that Nunnally is present, but when she makes no effort to drop the subject, he says, "Yes... he's... grasping symbolism quite well."

"Is that the only thing he's been grasping?" his old friend sniggers, almost daring him to fly off the handle.

Luckily, Nunnally doesn't seem to pick up on the innuendo, and continues to fold paper cranes. She has a stack of about fifteen on the table in front of her. It is one of her favorite new hobbies, which one of her daily caretakers (specifically Sayoko Shinozaki, a cheerful Japanese woman) taught her about a week before. She's really taken to it well. "I haven't talked to Suzaku for a little while. He seems like such a sad person." The young man had been kind to her, surely, but when she touched his hands and felt them tremble, it became evident that he is incurably unhappy... like her brother. "Maybe I can go to see him someday. He lives right up the hall."

Lelouch and C.C. lock eyes; of course, the professor knew Suzaku lived in this building, but not so _close... _"Does he now?" Dropping in on Suzaku would be impudent but very enjoyable on Lelouch's part. "Yes, we'll have to go and visit him, won't we?"

"Of course; I'd love to meet your new beau," says C.C. sweetly. Lelouch resists the urge to slap her.

"Beau?" Nunnally tilts her head to the side.

"She's kidding. I'm not involved with Suzaku," Lelouch assures her in the voice he uses only to calm Nunnally. "He's too young for me." _And that's precisely why I want him. _"I do worry about him, though. He has trouble paying attention in class."

Nunnally continues to fold her cranes and Lelouch silently wills himself not to go pound on Suzaku's door. C.C. watches him with amusement she doesn't even try to hide; never has she seen him so crazy about a prospective bedmate, much less a seemingly unremarkable young man like this Suzaku Kururugi.

She wonders if maybe the boy's good enough for Lelouch to consider an actual relationship, but doubts it. Her old friend is only in the fling business, and she feels bad for Suzaku, though she's never met him. Lelouch will fuck him until he's bored and leave him, then move on to the next conquest. It's a vicious cycle.

"Can we order a pizza? I haven't eaten a thing all day long."

"I highly doubt that." Nonetheless, Lelouch pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls up the number for Pizza Hut.

While he's busy with this, she takes the opportunity to slink off down the hallway, in pursuit of this Suzaku boy, who must be wandering around somewhere, looking for the nonexistent 'quiet studying places' that the University boasts in its brochures. However, the only person she runs into is that ADHD-riddled RA, Gino Weinberg, who isn't content to talk to her, since she's a girl.

She makes the loop back around the main level, buying a chocolate bar and eating it slowly as she continues to hunt for the famed Suzaku. Lelouch had said he was brown haired, rather muscular, but with a boyish face. No one around here seems to fit that description, but really, how sure can she be. Most of the people sitting at these tables are asleep anyway.

Back in the dorm, the inquisition begins. "Where the hell were you?"

"You didn't see me leave? You really are stressed," she replies coolly, plopping down on his bed. "Relax, I had to pee." Predictably, his face puckers in disgust, and he goes on talking to Nunnally like he had been before. "Oh, and I looked for your friend, Suzaku. Couldn't find him."

"He doesn't exactly live in the hallway," Lelouch says crossly. "I'll introduce you to him eventually. Right now, I don't think it's appropriate."

Of course, Lelouch is anal about timing and feelings and all his usual blather, and as a natural reflex, she tunes him out, favoring the magazine she's brought with her. Apparently, autumn tones are in this season, and you can't be caught dead in plaid. Not that it makes a difference to her. _I look hot in everything. _"Did you order my pizza?"

"Yes. I'm going to have to go pick it up, they're not delivering at this hour."

"Well, don't let the door hit you in the vagina on the way out, Faglouch."

––—∞—––


	5. and guilt eats away at you

_All the streets are crammed with things, eager to be held  
I know what hands are for, and I'd like to help myself _

_**violetta 05**_

**_––—∞—––_**

_Compare and Contrast Essay: Leo Tolstoy's 'War and Peace' versus Charles Dickens' "A Tale of Two Cities"  
Suzaku Kururugi, Advanced Literature  
9/18/2010_

Rivalz has noticed that this is the only thing written on Suzaku's paper, despite the fact that two hours of essay time has elapsed. He's just been sitting there, eyes large and unfocused, staring at the pink writing space within the exam booklet. Occasionally he will bite his fingernail or write something small, then rub it out with his eraser, getting more frustrated.

He usually looks to Suzaku to copy his work (yes, _even _when it comes to essays), but this time Rivalz found himself looking longer than normal. Suzaku seems tense, a little depressed (more so than usual anyway) and is just generally out of whack. He's been that way all day. He wouldn't even it the pancakes Rivalz so painstakingly prepared for him (in the microwave). That was when it got personal.

After a while, he allows his gaze to shift over Professor Lamperouge's way. Their instructor seems bored, typing up something on the computer and only occasionally looking over to check on them. This is new; normally he's up their asses, yammering on about symbolism (Rivalz is convinced that what the professor 'sees' in these old novels are just things he makes up) or telling a story about when he lived in France, none of which seem to have any real moral.

He raises his hand. "Uh, Professor? How much time is left?"

Lelouch glances at the clock. "Approximately… fifteen minutes or so before your first break."

Suzaku deflates visibly, eyes trained on the essay booklet, somewhat less intensely however. He drums his fingers on the desk and, eventually, lets out a heavy sigh. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

The professor looks at him incredulously. He's one of the only people who can pull off glasses like that. "Wait for the break, Suzaku."

_Suzaku. Hm. _The man usually refers to the students by their last names, or more often, he just resorts to pointing. Rivalz sits back.

A little while later, a small buzzer _ding_s on Lelouch's desk, and the room is full of walking people and chatter. Rivalz yawns and rolls his shoulders, wondering if he could poach Tylenol off someone before the test resumes. Kallen Stadtfeld is a good bet, or so he's heard; being as sick as she is, many people assume she has drugs out the yin-yang. In the end, he decides it isn't worth the risk of being seen by Lamperouge. "Say, Suzaku… having a little bit of trouble?"

Suzaku doesn't look up. "I don't see why we have to have a timed exam in the beginning of the year. It makes no sense." He's mumbling harshly, irritated. "I don't know anything about War and Peace."

Rivalz eyes his own essay (he'd been assigned to read 'The Scarlet Letter') then lightens his voice up a bit, "I know some Russian guy wrote it."

The brunet says nothing; he puts his pencil down and promptly leaves for that bathroom trip he'd been so keen on. Rivalz notices that Lamperouge's eyes follow Suzaku out.

"Hey," he hisses to Shirley. "Come over here."

She does, messing with a plait of her ginger hair and looking a bit spacey. "Do you think I would look good with lowlights?"

"Never mind that now. Do you think – do you think something's going on between Suzaku and Lamperouge?"

Shirley's brow crinkles and she turns her gaze on the professor, who's now eating an apple and reading some gigantic book. He looks utterly pleased with himself. "What would make you think that?"

The bluenette sighs. "No reason." Lamperouge bites his apple and turns the page. "I like to think that because of Euphy, he wouldn't do anything with the guy."

"You know he wouldn't. Suzaku's a good person." As if to strengthen this point, Shirley takes the Japanese's seat. "Besides, I'm still not convinced Lulu's gay."

"The man writes poetry."

"He's _sensitive," _she countered. "Here comes Suzaku." And then Shirley is no more, skittering back up through the rows to her seat. Suzaku eyes her with curiosity when he comes into the room, almost like he's going to say something, but then –

Then he's just standing there talking to Lamperouge. Rivalz watches subtly, and it all seems casual enough.

Something strange happens, though. Since they started college, Rivalz has been privy to many a phone conversation between Suzaku and Euphemia – and every once in a while Suzaku makes this face – a curly smile and misty eyes, paired with a bit of disbelief, like he just can't believe how wonderful she is. It always makes Rivalz wonder exactly what they're talking about.

You see, normally, he wouldn't think much of the conversation between his best friend and Lamperouge, but that all changes when Suzaku makes That Face and the professor tilts his head.

_I totally knew it._

––—∞—––

"Where are your pants?"

Suzaku's furrowed brow voices his discomfort; the Rivalz has been parading around in his boxers for a good thirty minutes, and up till now, Suzaku hasn't had the idea to ask him why.

"My pants are in the wash," Rivalz explains. "Don't get all butthurt about it."

The older's annoyed expression shatters, replaced by a scowl. "What're you implying?"

Rivalz won't admit it to him (mostly because it's obvious) but poking fun at Suzaku is quickly becoming his favorite pastime. Jabs carefully sidled into their frivolous conversations have made him do everything short of straight up punching his best friend – but where the hell is his breaking point?

Either the Japanese teen has a huge ego and isn't bothered, or he's trying to block it all out.

Probably the latter.

"Nothing, nothing," Rivalz sighs, opening the refrigerator and glancing at his menial foodstuffs, just as he did ten, twenty-three, and forty-seven minutes ago. "Hey, did you eat my blue cheese crumbles?" Since high school, Suzaku has had an affinity for the pungent cheese, eating it on everything possible. Watching Suzaku's head shake absentmindedly, he deduces that the brunet's mind is elsewhere and drops the question, going for a new angle. "So, Lamperouge-lover, what's on the agenda for your week?"

"Nothing interesting."

Other than his date with Lelouch tonight, somewhere in the French Quarter. He's sure Rivalz has some backwards Shirley-stalking plan in effect for the next few days, so he doesn't reciprocate, he just continues fiddling with his shoelace.

"I think I'm going to switch out of Literature," he adds softly.

Rivalz looks at him, his face contorted. "Huh? Waiwaiwait, I thought Lelouch-"

Not really sure what Rivalz was going to say but hell-bent on proving him wrong, Suzaku quips, "He's not. And I really don't think Literature is going to help me become Prime Minister." He says the last two words with a flourish, watching the confusion on Rivalz's face intensify and continuing before he can ask anything, "I'm going to take up Poly-Sci. Like Clovis. Maybe that will help me. Euphy says so."

Truthfully, Euphy hasn't said jack; Suzaku's just trying to prevent Rivalz from talking. That doesn't stop the bluenette from hammering him though.

"Prime _what_? Why would you wanna do that? I mean, your old man did it and everything, but yeesh, I'd think you'd want to stray from the track a little. Did Lelouch hurt you or something?" his brow crinkles at the thought; Suzaku has been through quite enough already.

"No, I..." Suzaku finally lets his shoelace flop down onto the linoleum. "I just don't want to see him any more than I have to." _Tonight I'm going to break it off - all of it. _"You know? Sometimes there are people you just can't be around."

Rivalz says, "Yeah, but there's always a _reason_." He figures Lelouch and Suzaku have more going than he's been told about, and it's got Suzaku in a tizzy, for lack of a better phrase. "I don't think you should give up just because he makes you uncomfortable. Besides, you guys seemed pretty chummy earlier. I mean, really, what kind of a cowardly move is that?**"**

"I'm not a coward," Suzaku says through gritted teeth, watching Rivalz's eyes start in their sockets. _You guys seemed pretty chummy. _So it's really that obvious, the way Lelouch steals his peace of mind. "I just don't want to be around him, he confuses me. He's going to make me like him." He stands, opening the fridge and surveying its meager contents. "Your crumbles are behind the Silk, by the way."

Soymilk and sharp cheese do nothing to change the subject on the bluenette's end. "What, like turn you gay? How's that gonna work?"

_It won't be difficult, considering. _He isn't sure if Lelouch is that malicious, but then again, he isn't sure of anything at this point in life, "I'm going to pick up something else and forget about this," he finishes promptly, lifting a jug of orange juice from the top shelf and pulling a cup from the cabinet. As he pours himself a glass, he can feel Rivalz's sandy eyes boring into his skull. "You don't like that idea?"

"Nnnegh," Rivalz shrugs, "I just don't get it. You seem to like each other - not that I _want _you to break up with Euphy or anything – but high school relationships don't - " he breaks off, voice killed by a pair of liquid-fire green eyes.

"Don't talk like that. You know I love her," he says in a hard voice. "I have to tell her."

"When's that gonna be? She's kind of swamped, isn't she?"

"It's art school. How swamped could she be?"

"Mm, I dunno." Sadly, Rivalz has always sucked when it comes to reassurance. "Well, uh, I know she'll take time off, she's nuts about you."

"Yeah..." The comment was made offhandedly but it hit Suzaku hard; yes, Euphy is nuts about him, and he's nuts about her too. The thing is, he's also nuts about Lelouch (in an equally afraid of and drawn to him sort of way). "I should call her tonight and just spit it out. Let it go."

That's much easier said than done, but a guilt demon has been gnawing at his intestines ever since this all started - two days ago.

"Do you think I should?"

Rivalz shrugs; "I dunno, man. I mean, you don't wanna lose her, do you?"

"I don't... but... I can't do this to her." The memory of Euphemia's lavender eyes burns a hole in his retinas and his stomach turns; is Lelouch really worth losing his girlfriend and lover of two years, who he iced over for months before finally getting up the courage to ask out? Is Lelouch really worth the torment he's going through inside, worth losing the love that's kept him going even when things were horrible at home?

He really doesn't know, because he doesn't know Lelouch.

Other than their odd little exchanges and hello-how-are-you's, he hasn't ever _talked _to the man, really spoken to him without a motive to cut his head off or give him what for. They haven't exchanged anything other than a few words before they dip into an argument or a battle of wits; they have not connected as he and Euphy have. Still, could they? Could he love Lelouch like he loves Euphy? Just a day or two ago, the notion of being that way with anyone else made him sick - but now is he honestly considering giving up the love of his life for his _Professor, _the man who'd baited him and piqued his curiosity until he found himself.. falling for him?

No.

He isn't falling for Lelouch. He could never fall for his stupid little symbolic quips or his skinny skeleton-body, or his way of reading his mind and turning everything around on him. Suzaku is conservative in his notions about love and life, and he's not willing to take such a steep risk. He can _not _break it off with Euphy, the girl he's loved and dreamed of for as long as he can remember - for Lelouch, some product of his bi-curious lust. It's an idiotic and pitiful move only an imbecile would make.

"I have to pee," he mutters.

––—∞—––

Riiiing. Riiiing.

_Pick up, _he silently wills, _pick the fuck u-_

"Hello?" answers Euphemia's cheerful soprano and he's washed over by a mixed wave of guilt and relief. A few moments pass as he catches his breath, and she repeats herself, "Hello? Suzaku?"

"Yeah, hey," he breathes, smiling. "Sorry about that. I was uh… running." That's the truth, but not totally. He left out the part where he slammed the stall door and buried his head in his hands, trying to decide what to do, before finally fishing around in his pockets for his phone. "How are you?"

She thinks. "I'm pretty good. I was sick yesterday, someone in our dorm building had the flu, I guess," but she doesn't sound too upset about it; after all, it's Suzaku, who she's been aching to hear from since they last talked at his dorm. "How are you?"

_Fucking nauseous. _"I'm okay," Suzaku says finally, focusing his gaze on his shoes as he leans up against the wall. "Listen, I called because I want you to come and see me tomorrow. I'll skip class."

"What? Whatever happened to getting straight A's?" but her voice has brightened, gotten playful, and he knows he's probably won her over with his promise. "Sure I will, but why so sudden?"

Suzaku closes his eyes. "I miss you," he says, and it's the truth, but with shades of gray. Yes, he misses her, but he also wants to know if seeing her again will wipe away any of the feelings he's got for Lelouch. It's a selfish move, he knows that, but at this point, he's figures morals are long gone. "You can stay the night with me. Clovis won't tell anyone."

"Eager, are we?" she giggles. "I'll see what I can do about getting someone to cover for me, mm? The others understand." She's shuffling around, doing something. "Do you need me to bring anything?" she asks, in a bit more serious tone, and Suzaku's chest flares with realization.

"No, I'm all set." He'd bought protection in anticipation of Euphy's visits - but he couldn't have predicted these circumstances. "I'll see you tomorrow, then… around three?"

"Wait," she says, "why can't I come today?" he can't see her, but he knows she's pouting. While she's a sensible girl, Euphemia isn't completely against using classic cuteness tactics.

_(because I have a date with Lelouch) _"I've got a big paper to finish. Clovis is going to help me, I hope." He's equally surprised and disgusted by the ease at which the lie slips out. Why can't he just tell her? "I'm sorry."

"No, I understand. I didn't do anything for a week because I had a painting - never mind, it's not important. Tomorrow at three, then." Euphemia takes a drink of something and Suzaku slumps a bit against the wall; considering how fit he is, it's a shame that standing for such a short period of time has him tired. "I have to go. I love you, Suzaku."

A low, aching pain sidles into his chest region, and his throat is locked as he says, "I love you too" and hangs up the phone.

It's not a lie, but it hurts him to say it. He cheated on her (it's a difficult thing to admit, even to himself) and he didn't even have the balls to tell her - even worse, he invited her over intending only to sleep with her. He's disgusted with himself, but he can't bring himself to call back and cancel, probably because he really is wondering if this Lelouch thing is the result of loneliness. Regardless, his chest hurts, and it's probably not anything that can be cured with Ibuprofen.

––—∞—––

"You realize you don't look good in red," C.C. notes loftily, watching Lelouch straighten his tie. He ignores her jab and casts a placid expression into the mirror. "Purple is your color."

"I'm perfectly aware of what looks good on me," he replies in a clipped voice, unable to blot away _all _of his irritation.

After all, the witch has been active in annoying him today, murmuring cutting remarks akin to his never closing the deal with Suzaku - which he is determined to do tonight. Usually, in these situations, the boy (or until recently, the other man) is putty in his hands within twenty-four hours - but Suzaku is stubborn.

C.C. wouldn't understand the thrill of it, would she?

"Now, go and find my lint roller."

Golden eyes lock to violet and she _humphs _angrily before gliding off toward the bathroom. Nunnally has been downstairs with Sayoko since this morning, being schooled in the rhetoric she pushed him to let her learn. He is genuinely pleased by her desire to expand her mind - mostly because he sees a bit of his younger self in her.

"Here it is," C.C. says in a defeated voice, shoving the device in his face. She smiles when the adhesive sticks to his pale forehead, watching him snatch it off reproachfully before turning it back to the mirror and swiping his dinner jacket a few times. "How keen are you on this Kururugi boy, on a scale of one to ten?" she says it in part because she wants to get him talking, and in part because she is actually curious. Lelouch has been running around since noon readying himself for this dinner - and he isn't due to pick the boy up until tonight.

Lelouch thinks it over, his thin lips wrinkling. "I'd say ten," he replies, smiling inwardly as he watches her apple-green eyebrows ascend. "When I bring him back here tonight, you'll understand why."

Because, yes, he's is confident in the prediction that he will be fucking Suzaku tonight - after all, there was the way Suzaku had looked at him in the classroom yesterday, after the exam.

(_Like he trusted him.) _

That was new.

Convinced he has C.C. sated, Lelouch continues ridding his jacket of the lint that never was. "What are you going to do while I'm gone?"

C.C. considers. "I may wander around town, pick up a boy or two. Or I could stay in with your sister. Both are potentially rewarding." She enjoys spending time with the younger Lamperouge sibling, because it gives her hope that the entire family is not the spawn of Satan. "Why? Are you kicking me out?" she expects Lelouch will want the dorm empty and ready for copulation - or at worst, a nice, empty place for his post-rejection moping.

"No," he says, but the lightness in his voice reveals that he was contemplating it a bit, "I was just wondering." His right eye twitches slightly as he notes a slight crookedness in his tie - alas, just a trick of the light. "You are leaving tomorrow, right?"

"You _are_ kicking me out."

But her mouth slides into an unavoidable smile. Whatever is rocky in her life, whatever annoying decisions her mother decides to make, her friendship with Lelouch will be constant. She will always have him to alternatively adore and annoy, to channel her consternation into. Their bond is a strange one, but that is probably why she enjoys it so. _Why do I always end up reflecting, of all things? _"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You've always been callous."

"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" Lelouch asks, on autopilot as he continues to right the various 'imperfections' in his ensemble. "I can say with confidence that neither of us have much of a conscience." Finally satisfied, the other opened his briefcase and peeled off five hundred-dollar bills, sliding them into his breast pocket as he makes his way into the bathroom.

His voice echoes lightly as he continues, "I keep telling you to replace the toilet paper on the roll when you're done with it."

"Nn," C.C. protests softly, rolling over onto her side to face away from his voice. That doesn't stop her from hearing it, though. "You're never even here," she reminds him softly, but he does not hear over the noise of the sink. She drifts off into daydream land, ignoring Lelouch's footsteps as he hurries about the dormitory, readying himself for what will undoubtedly be a one-night stand and another story to tell over a shared dinner of Pizza Hut. Someone as intelligent as Lelouch should get bored of the same cat and mouse game, shouldn't he? She has always wished silently to be the number-one priority in his life, but those times are long gone.

––—∞—––

Suzaku, however, doesn't have a snarky witch to tell him what looks good on him and what doesn't. Luckily, he doesn't think about that much, and buttons up his white shirt with a detached air. He suspects that Lelouch would like to take him somewhere fancy, so his next objective is the ice blue tie hanging from the bedpost, a garment he isn't exactly sure how to work with. He has only worn a tie on two previous occasions - his cousin Kaguya's baptism, and of course, his father's funeral.

He takes a breath and pulls a comb through his chestnut hair, watching it flop lawlessly back into place. He wishes his hair would reflect his upbringing, just a little bit. After all, he grew up Suzaku Kururugi, son of the Prime Minister, cream of the crop, and there must be some of that nobility still hidden deep inside. He hopes so, anyway.

A hard buzz from the bedside table alerts him of a text.

**Hey, I'm coming up. Let me in.**

Of course, Rivalz had warned him that he would be dropping in before he set out for dinner, to 'make sure he looked nice'. Sure enough, there is a sharp rap on the door, and he opens it to see Rivalz, holding a Twix and looking as if he'd moseyed on over fresh out of the shower. "Nice," he comments.

"Thank you," Suzaku breathes, picking up his tie as the thought strikes him. "Help me with this."

Rivalz ties it quickly. "Wow, don't you look sharp," he says, snapping off a bite of his Twix. Indeed, Suzaku looks much better in formalwear than he does in his usual sweats and runners - the white shirt really does set off his skin quite nicely. The overall effect would be much improved, however, if he didn't look so damn _pissed. _"Suzaku? What's wrong?"

Through his nose, Suzaku says, "What do you think?"

The bluenette gives him a knowing look. Nothing to damage a straight guy's pride than a date with a gay one (though he isn't exactly sure if Suzaku's totally straight; that will surely be proven later). "I think you should calm down just a little. He's not going to molest you. Who knows, maybe you guys'll wind up friends."

He smiles timidly, watching Suzaku's smoldering expression melt a little.

"I know I should. I just can't stop thinking about Euphy," Suzaku confesses with a little huff of breath at the end, his brain assaulted with images of Euphemia laying in his lap, laughing, brushing her candyfloss hair. "I'm seeing her tomorrow, you know."

Rivalz's cyan eyebrows jump. "Are you going to tell her?" Of course, he knows Suzaku will, because Suzaku keeping a secret is like a lion passing up fresh meat. It just doesn't happen.

"Of course," Suzaku says, nodding to reinforce his words, "I have it all planned out." He will mention kissing a guy somewhere in casual conversation, go at it with the 'oh, funny story' technique. Knowing Euphemia, she'll be a bit surprised, and then giggle her insecurities away.

That's the desired outcome, at least.

Suzaku grabs a twenty from his drawer, planning to order himself the least expensive thing on the menu and call it a night. "Hey, get my Civics textbook from Shirley." The citrus-haired History major had borrowed his book to press some lilies a week ago, and he still hasn't gotten it back from her.

Rivalz nods quickly, his brown eyes alight with the prospect of being in her presence once more, and rights Suzaku's bedspread, which is somewhat wrinkled. "Jeez, do you ever clean up around here?"

The brunet slips on his dinner jacket. "I try to," he says offhandedly, buttoning himself up and standing erect. "Anything wrong with this?"

"Your fly's undone," Rivalz notes, seeing a snatch of plaid boxers.

Suzaku rolls his eyes; of course he forgot something as menial as that. After righting his trousers, Suzaku glances at his clock and notes the time. "I'm leaving now," he says, his heart a-thump at the realization that Lelouch is down the hall. You can stay here if you want." He thinks vaguely that Clovis may frighten Rivalz, but none of that matters now.

He's four doors down.

He counts promptly: _1, 2, 3, 4, , _his heart thumping along in time. What if Lelouch isn't ready? Worse, what if he has just gone and made other plans? Suzaku rids himself of these thoughts by knocking sharply on the door, hearing faint noises inside.

After a bit more rustle-and-shuffle, the door swings open to reveal a beautiful woman with long, shining green hair and inquisitive golden eyes. A white nightshirt hangs on her supple frame. She leans over onto a hip. "You must be Suzaku. Lelouch said you were cute." A winsome smile pulls at her lips.

His face flares hot - "Cute? Ah, excuse me – yeah, I'm Suzaku." He smiles tentatively; a lady friend? _She must be C.C., _his brain registers quickly. She lets him in, plopping backwards onto the bed nearest the door, her eyes still fixed on him. Unsure of what to do, he lingers in the doorway, sliding a hand into his pocket and fingering the twenty he's brought.

"Don't look so nervous. I'm only here to observe," the girl says in a saccharine voice, twisting a tendril of her apple-green hair around one of her icy fingers.

Almost on cue, Lelouch enters the room from what Suzaku presumes is his bedroom his expression momentarily freezing then collapsing into a pleased one.

"Suzaku," he says, sounding almost _relieved _by his sudden appearance. "Why are you so early?"

"I felt like I should come up," Suzaku says. "Sorry for intruding."

"Intruding? Certainly not. I was getting tired of arguing with her." He tosses a look C.C.'s way but she is too busy watching Suzaku to see it. "I'll make tea," Lelouch says calmly, entering the small kitchen and getting to work. Suzaku follows him, drawn like a moth to a lamp, his hands aflutter at his sides as he tries to figure out what to do with them.

Lelouch keeps a tidy little place (he notes that everything the older uses to prepare tea has its own label and seems to be sorted alphabetically), which is an exemplary achievement when it comes to college dormitories.

"Relax, Suzaku, you look like you're about to jump out of your skin. C.C. makes everyone nervous."

_No, _you_ are making me nervous. You bastard. _"I'm fine, really," he says, a bit pleased by just how much he sounds like it. He gets to surveying Lelouch's lean body, on which he is wearing a trim black blazer and red dress shirt, with a black tie. He is seamlessly together as always, whilst Suzaku feels as segmented as a puzzle, the components of his outfit hunted down and hastily assembled. He suspects he will always feel this way in Lelouch's presence - however long he is around him this way, anyway. "Really, I'm sorry I came so early, I just -"

"You're fine. I wanted to see you too." Smiling, Lelouch watches Suzaku's face nearly melt off his skull.

"I—" Suzaku glances at his shoes, taking a very sudden and rapt interest in them. The older man's violet pools are so very calm, yet he seems to be staring at him with the intensity of a newborn forest fire. Maybe it's his imagination. Either way, the eyes have him. "Is the tea ready?"

Lelouch casts an airy gaze toward the teapot. "I just put it on a moment ago." He doesn't continue to stare at Suzaku, though; the boy has had enough for a little while. Conversation will ease him a bit. "I really didn't know you lived this close. I assumed you lived somewhere near Gino."

They share an look, Suzaku's hammering heart calmed a bit. "No, thank God," he manages, directing his gaze toward the green-haired vixen snoozing on the bed nearby. If Lelouch can have his pick of beautiful women, why would he choose to be with men? It baffles him. "Where exactly in the French Quarter are we going?"

"Anywhere, I suppose. I've only been there once or twice." Lelouch hears the teapot hiss softly and pulls it off the stove, pouring a cup for Suzaku.

The brunet sips quietly, keeping his eyes down to the cup as much as he can. He's so flustered, it makes Lelouch wonder what he's really like beyond this nervousness. He's seen him laugh easily with other students, seen the spring in his step he doesn't have when they're together. Perhaps it's possible Suzaku just doesn't like him. He'd certainly said it enough.

And yet…

Suzaku replaces his cup on the counter. "We should get going," he suggests, looking at his wrist only to look away quickly with the realization that he isn't wearing a watch like he thought. Like a switch has been flipped, Lelouch leaves auto-pilot.

"Right," he says, striding over to nudge C.C. awake. "Be back later." He omits the word 'we'll' to keep Suzaku at ease, but she knows full well what he means as she nods slowly, still quite unconscious, her neck lolling as she sinks back into her slumber. Suzaku is already out the door, holding it open for the other, face still expressionless. Lelouch sidles past him, pulling keys from his pocket.

––—∞—––

"You have satellite radio," Suzaku notes in a soft voice, watching Lelouch thumb idly through the stations. Evidently, he likes nothing, because he taps the button and silences the radio entirely. Suzaku is disappointed; he wanted music as a buffer, to avoid the searing conversations that tend to fill their silences. Lelouch pulls out of the parking lot, sailing onto the road that is (blissfully) clear, not noticing Suzaku's pronounced breath of relief. Thus far, Lelouch's evening has gone well - he hadn't had a major breakdown over some wardrobe issue, and Suzaku came to see him early. All in all, pretty great.

The French Quarter is about fifteen miles away, however good traffic may be, there's an inevitable twenty-minute ride. Suzaku busies himself by watching the scenery - Pendragon is mostly manicured oak trees and impeccably trimmed grass, the trademarks of a college town. At Kururugi Manor in Kyoto, his nearest neighbor was three acres away. Needless to say, this has been a substantial and welcome change for Suzaku. Lelouch, on the other hand, was born and raised here in the capitol city of Britannia, and isn't nearly as impressed by it. He keeps his head forward, a glaze seeping across his violet eyes as he drives on toward Richmond Street.

"So," Suzaku says affably, "How long have you and C.C. been friends?"

"Since my freshman year of college," Lelouch supplies, a rough undertone in his voice. Why is Suzaku so keen on C.C.? "How long have you known your girlfriend?"

Green eyes blink. "Ah, Euphy… ninth grade." Suzaku doesn't take a trip onto memory lane. It would make him feel guilty.

Lelouch nods, taking this in. "And you've been dating for. two years?" he guesses, watching surprise flicker on the younger's face. "I'm right, aren't I."

Lelouch has always been good at analyzing relationships; whilst it may be a strange talent, he takes pride in it. Immediately Suzaku busies himself with that cell phone of his, undoubtedly texting said girlfriend.

While he isn't the jealous type, Lelouch feels a bit envious of the girl who so effortlessly sees the real Suzaku, whilst he gets the censored version by the very skin of his teeth. She must really be something, but he doesn't press the boy for more information.

The brunet looks up hesitantly, realizing Lelouch has again focused his attention on the road. He finds himself admiring the older - the gentle sweep of his jaw, endless lashes and the very slight frown he wears when his face is otherwise uninhabited. It makes him wonder what goes on up there, in his surely well endowed brain.

Does he spend a lot of time fantasizing, or does he think short, quipped little thoughts? Suzaku isn't sure why he's so curious about Lelouch's thought process, but he's certain the older has an agenda for tonight.

What's going to be the hard part is letting him _down._

The Britannian male punches the button on his dashboard, finally starting the radio. It is a light rock song, and Lelouch doesn't know it, but it seems to be just the kind of music Suzaku likes. In his peripheral vision he watches the brunet relax a little, his fingers lightly tapping his thigh in tune with the music.

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there... with open arms and open eyes... _

Suzaku turns his brown head to gaze out the window once more. He thinks of Euphemia; she likens this song to him, and sings it often in her trilling voice. She often says she cannot sing, but he vehemently disagrees - listening to her was – _is - _one of his favorite pastimes. _Would you choose water over wine... hold the wheel and drive..._

He clears his mind by reminding himself that he is here now, with Lelouch, and should be paying attention to him. After all, he's the one who said yes, right?

"Lelouch?"

"Hm?" Lelouch takes a left turn, trying to remember the way.

"Thank you for taking me out tonight," he says quickly, since it's the first thing that's popped into his head.

Lelouch smiles a bit. "Why are you thanking me? We haven't even gotten there yet," he points out, but he knows Suzaku means well. The boy is not necessarily _awkward, _but he certainly seemed more comfortable with being cruel to him.

"I know, but I probably would've spent the night watching old movies and eating with Rivalz," he says honestly. He is fond of his time with Rivalz, but after a while the same thing gets tiresome. "He thinks he has great taste in movies."

"You disagree."

"Well, yeah. He likes slasher films. I don't like watching people getting their guts dragged out every night, you know?"

Lelouch chuckles. "I can understand that getting boring."

"I try and make him watch new things, but he's dead-set on what _he _likes."

"What type of movies do you like?"

"Old ones. Black and white. Spy themed, mostly."

"Ah. I like a good romance, myself." Lelouch is pleasantly surprised by Suzaku's newfound chattiness. "Do you watch movies with him every night?

Suzaku thinks. "Not every night. Some nights I'm alone. He spends a lot of time going after Shirley."

He is beginning to ease up on this idea of being friends with Lelouch; it could be possible. He's convinced the older male could never get tired of hearing him talk.

"Shirley," the raven-haired man says faintly, remembering her after a moment, "does he like her?" His mind, however, is monopolized by the phrase _some nights I'm alone_ and the erotic images it evokes. Thankfully, he drops back to earth with relative ease when Suzaku answers the question he already forgot.

"A lot. He's still upset over a bad breakup, though."

Lelouch frowns lightly, thinking of C.C. While he enjoys reminiscing about some of their past, the memories are inevitably linked to some painful days that he would much rather forget. "Perhaps a new girlfriend will help him forget," he says, knowing that tactic does not work.

Suzaku nods. "Yeah. He doesn't get out much."

Finally, Lelouch reaches the Quarter. It is drastically different from the rest of Pendragon in that it is, of course, very Parisian. Suzaku, only familiar with Japanese and Britannian architecture, is disconcerted by the arches and bay windows of the various restaurants and theaters. Still, he finds them oddly beautiful.

After parking, they stand awkwardly under a willow tree, Lelouch's ebony hair blowing lightly in the wind. He stands up straight, and Suzaku has his arms crossed. He is looking straight ahead; Suzaku is fixated on his shoes once again. _Why does he go to so much trouble to avoid my gaze?_

The taller deliberately takes a step closer to his younger companion, watching his curls swipe the foggy air as his head comes up. "Are you alright?" he asks quietly.

The boy gives him a labored half-smile.

"I'm fine," he says confidently, trying to convince himself as well as the other. The Quarter is beautiful - _Lelouch _is beautiful - but what he's doing to Euphemia is ugly. He feels increasingly guilty as the minutes pass, his stomach twisted and tangled in knots. He was able to forget about her for their short little conversation in the car, but he should've known that freedom was short-lived. "Let's find somewhere to eat," he suggests, dredging his happy tone from somewhere deep inside.

Something about Lelouch's squinty eyed-glance tells him that the older doesn't quite buy it, but he is confident that Lelouch doesn't enjoy making a scene.

He's right. "What about La Tour d'Argent?" he asks.

Suzaku nods, a new and somewhat overdone spring in his step as he follows Lelouch up the cobblestone walk. By some miraculous bout of self-control he manages to push Euphemia to the back of his mind. "Have you eaten there before?"

"I haven't. C.C. took me here once for my birthday, but I… he remembers with a jolt. "It's an embarrassing story," he says in a clipped voice, turning his head forward and nearly colliding with another tree in his haste. The younger's eyebrows raise.

"What happened?"

Of course, he'll tell all the embarrassing stories in the world, if Suzaku is the audience.

"On my way out of the restroom, I fell and took a table down with me." Of course, he doesn't mention the womens' dresses he'd ruined when chocolate sauce splattered everywhere, or the two thousand dollars he had to pay for the china he destroyed. He had been nineteen and really very clumsy, having not quite grown into his height yet.

"That's nothing," Suzaku says, and Lelouch is surprised his ears don't visibly perk at the hint of a challenge in the boy's tone, "Once, my father and his advisors presented awards to a group of veterans. I think I was six. My mother taught me how to fasten a belt the day before, but I guess I didn't really get the hang of it. My pants came down in front of the entire country." He smiles wryly at the memory; his mother's deer-in-the-headlights expression, his father's exasperation, the Japanese peoples' laughter.

He's convinced that if he went back there now, he wouldn't hear very much of it.

"I suppose you win," Lelouch says with a laugh, imagining Suzaku in miniature, his pants pooled around his ankles, a crowd of people roaring with mirth. It undoubtedly overshadows his mishap.

They reach the restaurant then, a small one surrounded by overlarge trees. The restaurant is quite dim, actually, lit by minimal lights and candles. Just the type of environment he desires.

"We may have to wait," he says to Suzaku, noting how the other's bristled at the sight of the crowding.

His muscular frame relaxes and he takes in more of the foreign decor, relaxing a bit. This restaurant smells faintly of cinnamon, and of something else, as well - oil of cloves? He isn't sure.

A waiter approaches Lelouch and Suzaku's jaw nearly drops as he watches the Lelouch start to converse in smooth, effortless French - you'd think it was his first language. They are led to a small table near the corner, leaned against one of the bay windows that intrigue him so. "I didn't know you were bilingual," he says quietly.

"I lived in Paris for a while, studying for my PhD," Lelouch says, sounding almost bored as he peruses his menu. He remembers lobbying for a job in the Arts and Sciences department, only to be shown up by an older woman who, he guessed, appealed more to the Board's sentimentality. The memory is relatively difficult to dismiss.

It strikes Suzaku that he really doesn't know very much about Lelouch, and what he is coming to know is much more interesting than he previously thought. He looks down at his menu and visibly blanches.

"It's all in French," he says flatly, frowning at it.

Lelouch looks up, a twinkle in his eye. Or maybe it's just the candle next to him. "Flip it."

The other side of the menu is in Britannian. Suzaku smiles and decides he'll have clam chowder; that's the only thing on the menu he's had before. "Did you meet many interesting people in France?"

"A few." The older man places his menu on the table, paying Suzaku full attention for the first time since they came in. "The women, however, are completely obnoxious. They're drunk most of the time." He considers spouting off his positive feedback on the good fucks he had there, but it is early. "Not that that's any different from Britannian women, but you would expect Parisian girls to be somewhat refined, would you not?"

"I know that French girls don't shave," Suzaku says offhandedly. "I read it somewhere." He unfolds his napkin and spreads it across his lap, patting it with his fingers to make sure it is perfect. He's had minimal experience with fine dining, but he can adapt, right?

_"_I wouldn't know," Lelouch says, marveling in how _cute _Suzaku is when he lines up his silverware, supervising his work with those big green eyes. He wonders just how cute he can be when he's actually_ trying. _"Are Japanese girls as crass?"

"They're reserved, mostly," Suzaku says, remembering his elementary classmates. "Girls in Japan are supposed to learn their manners right from the start. It's tradition."

"I find that odd. Such a focus on being modest, yet you all bathe together in public."

Suzaku smiles. "Well, that's tradition, too. We're used to each other. Britannians are more reserved, I guess, in the end," he says as an afterthought, and Lelouch considers rebuking him, but halfway through formulating a response he sees the truth in the younger's words.

"Yes," he says, "we are, aren't we."

The waiter - a tall man with a mustache much darker than his hair - returns, giving Suzaku another chance to hear Lelouch speak French, which is a treat to his ears. The guttural words slide so effortlessly off of his tongue. The waiter glances at Suzaku, and asks him, "And for you?"

"Chowder," he answers simply, handing the man his menu. He is gone quickly.

Lelouch sips his wine. "You picked the most inexpensive thing on the menu. Don't be stingy." He means for it to come off as a reprimand, but his words are playful enough for Suzaku, because he smiles. He smiles now. It's an improvement.

"Nah. I'm just… I don't like to spend a lot on food," he says lamely.

"It's my treat," Lelouch says, his eyes ready for Suzaku to lock gazes with him. Sure enough, it happens.

"No," Suzaku says, as softly as he can. "I can't let you do that," he says, swirling his straw around in the simple water. Lelouch watches him, his eyes half-mast. The boy is so - humble? No, that isn't the word. 'Keen to reject any advance that may be considered romantic' would work better. Paying for Suzaku would subtly enforce the idea that they are a couple, whereas separate checks would keep the dinner platonic. Which is what it's supposed to be, and is. Thus far.

"Come on, now. Let me indulge you a little. I'm the one who hammers you with all those essays."

_I'm shafted. _"No, the essays are fine," he insists, his voice a little weaker, "I just hate other people paying for me, is all. I feel like I owe them."

"You won't owe me a single thing." _Except a fuck. "_I promise."

He nods a little, and Suzaku casts his gaze to the tabletop, a thin line of pink high on his cheeks. He really despises the idea of Lelouch of all people picking up his tab – he doesn't want to give him any funny ideas. His stomach lurches as Euphy takes up residence in his mind again, reminding him of his mistakes - _You really shouldn't be here, you know. I wouldn't like seeing you on a date with someone else… _of course, Euphemia is too gentle to say these things. Perhaps it's his conscience taking her form to convince him more effectively. "Have you been to any other countries?"

"Coincidentally, I've been to Japan." Lelouch visited the island nation with his brother Odysseus during early adolescence, under their father's suggestion. "A lovely country."

_You have no idea how much better it used to be. _"Where in Japan?"

"I went to Tokyo, of course. What tourist wouldn't?"

He quirks an eyebrow and tips the last drop of wine down past his shell-pink lips, placing the glass back down on the table with a soft 'clink' and refocusing his gaze on Suzaku. The younger boy is watching him blankly, his angel face as expressionless as a plate glass window. Instead of questioning him about his stare, Lelouch returns it, albeit less intensely. There is a laze to Suzaku's green orbs as he casts them away, landing on a bouquet of lilies not far from him. The older male lets his eyes drop to his lap, to his clasped hands.

"We went there on a school trip once," Suzaku lets free at last, having scraped through his brain for the answer after being blanched of all thought by the other's liquid stare, "It took us a ton of time to go through customs." And the once-proud Japanese people he had seen were so pathetic, so brainwashed by the Britannian political machine, it had broken his heart. Is that what he would have become? If he had stayed? "Rivalz stole a bunch of souvenirs."

"I could see that." Lelouch closes his eyes and opens them again on impact. "Have you any plans to return to Japan after you get your degree?"

_I'm not getting a degree in charity work. _"My grandmother lives here in Pendragon, so there isn't a need," the young Kururugi explains, prodding an ice cube with the tip of his straw. "She did it because of me."

_You're lucky to have family that honors your wishes. _"I see." Lelouch doesn't have any warm or witty response to this; a hard, bitter feeling in his stomach is the only retort his body can muster. "My family is much less... caring than your grandmother, to say the least."

"Oh." Suzaku's nose crinkles. "Why do you say that?"

"My brother, Schneizel, feels the need to try and take my sister from me." A jagged edge seems to grate against his voicebox.

He can only reply with, "Why?"

_The same reason a dog licks himself. _"Because he can, I suppose."

Though Lelouch didn't quite raise his voice, the younger realizes he's struck a nerve and sits quietly, staring into his uninteresting cup of ice water that he'd vehemently ordered over the wine Lelouch suggested. "People suck," he offers, skimming mentally over the idea of mentioning his father's sins as a comfort method, but in the end rejecting it. There's no need to upset himself too.

"Indeed." Lelouch motions to the waiter for another drink. "Honestly, Suzaku, order yourself a glass. You look wound up."

_You think so. _"I'll be fine," he says, smiling toothily and watching as Lelouch's attempt at charming him dies right on his face. "What's next after this?"

"Ahm.." the older man looks off to the left, "We could go back to my dorm and have a drink, if you'd like. C.C. will make herself scarce if I tell her to." _She'd fucking better, _he snaps mentally, knowing how bitchy C.C. tends to get at night. The waiter replaces Suzaku's water on the table and Lelouch asks for another glass of wine; getting up the guts to put the moves on the other will be much easier once he's a little inebriated.

The boy has a bit of an epiphany. Wouldn't it just be the cherry on top, making Lelouch as uncomfortable as Lelouch makes him? "I'd like that," Suzaku says. "Can we turn the lights off?" he lowers his voice a little, watching electric surprise monopolize Lelouch's frame. Heady with amusement, he adds, "I'm shy."

Wink.

_What the…_"Are you feeling all right?" Lelouch's voice, however, is quivering; the sudden turn in Suzaku's behavior has blown him out of the water, so much so that he is lost for words when the brunet says,

"I certainly am." He feels quite foolish at some of the things he's saying; of course, they're a little cheesy, but they appear to be working. Perhaps Lelouch is only such a Casanova because he doesn't expect his targets to buck back at him? "You look flushed."

_Shut up. _"It's just hot in here. I am wearing three layers, after all." His voice is heavy; their roles have been entirely switched and it's killing him. "What about you? You seem pretty flustered yourself."

"That's because I am." This is the truth. Suzaku marvels at the expression that has surfaced on Lelouch's usually so condescending face, and feels a rush of superiority. Through his simple little words he has belittled Lelouch - is he really so easily - "Let's get out of here."

Sharp, intelligent eyes flash upward. "We haven't even really eaten yet," Lelouch points out, flicking his gaze to his soup and back, "Or did you forget why we came here?"

"Because we're friends," Suzaku affirms nonchalantly, sucking on an ice cube. "But it doesn't have to end with dinner, remember?" he isn't implying that they have sex, but Lelouch takes it that way, if the look on his face is any indication. And – suddenly - the thought isn't exactly off-putting to the Suzaku, and his heart lurches in his chest. He bites down hard on the ice cube and feels it sting one of the fillings in the back of his mouth. Wince.

"What?" Lelouch asks, ever observant. The boy shakes his head and the older curses himself; must he question and analyze every one of Suzaku's expressions? He takes a swig of his wine, mulling over whether or not he should order something with a bit more... octane. He busies himself by eating his soup slowly, careful to avoid looking at Suzaku, who isn't looking at him either, actually. He's eating as well. Food always has that lovely way of quieting everyone for a time.

Predictably, Suzaku finishes first. He props his elbow up on the table, resting his chin on his hand, glancing out at the other tables. The restaurant is crowded as hell and all evening he's felt like it's just been the two of them. "This is nice," he remarks.

"Yeah," Lelouch says. He doesn't know where he falls in this situation - he must regain control. "You look cute in white," he says offhandedly.

"Thank you."

_What.. the hell.. no blush, no nothing? _Lelouch bites his lip and scours his brain for the most embarrassing thing he can think of: "Though I bet you look cuter naked."

"That's what they say," Suzaku watches the professor's eyes narrow. It really isn't like him to be this bold, or this - silly, really - but damn, it's fun to watch Lelouch get so worked up over a few flirty comments. The man really is fragile as hundred-year-old china once he gets a taste of his own medicine. "What about you, Lelouch? Do you look good with nothing on?"

"That's for you to judge." He sips his wine with a wanton leer, watching Suzaku's green eyes light up with the idea of a challenge. Perhaps they're more alike than he originally thought? "That is, of course, if I can get rid of C.C.'s annoying ass."

"I'm sure something could be arranged," Suzaku murmurs, not even really paying attention to Lelouch as he feels an insistent throb in his bladder. "I'll be back," he says, getting to his feet and sidling through the tables to the bathroom, which is tucked away near the kitchen. On his way to the urinal, Suzaku catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His cheeks are pink and he seems a bit punch-drunk - maybe flirting with Lelouch is more taxing than he thinks.

He straightens up a bit in the mirror, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes and straightening his tie - which is a bit lopsided. On his way out he spies Lelouch with the check.

"Here," he says, dropping a twenty on the table, "That ought to cover me."

Lelouch pushes it back. "Your money is no good," he says simply, watching Suzaku's face break into a frown. "I'm sure you need it, what with your bike being stolen."

Mouth agape, Suzaku says, "How did you know about my bike?"

"You walk everywhere," Lelouch replies, as if this is the simplest explanation in the word. It really is. "I didn't think you were looking to get fit or anything. You're pretty much covered in that department." He catches the disdainful look on the other's face and says, "Don't worry. I'm sure you can make it up to me later, right?" his voice takes that playful tone again, and Suzaku picks up his money, giving Lelouch a sarcastic smile before sitting back down.

"I suppose I could," he says absentmindedly, messing with one of his cuff links. With the bill paid and Lelouch's wish for teasing fulfilled, they set off for the car.

**_––—∞—––_**

"How do you feel about Bowman's?"

"Bowman's what?" Suzaku asks, confused. The question is answered for him as he watches Lelouch rummage around in his dresser, finally unearthing a tall bottle of the aforementioned vodka. "I've never had it before. I don't drink much."

"I drank like a fish my freshman year," Lelouch says with a wistful expression, pulling two glasses out of the cabinet, scattering ice into them and pouring. "You'll want some release once the work gets harder, if you're not good with stress."

"Or if I keep hanging out with you, Professor."

"That, too." Lelouch smiles. He adds a splash of orange juice to each glass and brings them over to the table, taking a seat across from Suzaku.

"So, go on then. Tell me your life story." He sips nonchalantly, watching Suzaku's auburn brow crease.

"My life isn't interesting," the boy says, as if the idea of talking about it appalls him.

"Mine isn't exactly a Stephen King novel either, but I'd like to know more about you."

The brunet smiles. "Won't you learn more about me from being around me?" he watches Lelouch's face collapse, exasperated, before he relents: "Okay, fine. I was born in Kyoto -"

"I don't care where you were born," Lelouch says, "Tell me something I haven't read already."

_You've read about me? _"Uh. I'm allergic to peppermints?"

"I give up," Lelouch takes a heavy swig of his drink, and Suzaku does the same, more out of curiosity than anything. The rush of heat in his veins is unexpected; he hasn't had the hard stuff for quite a while. He drinks leisurely in the silence, and the older is content to do the same. He likes this new atmosphere they have going; they're starting to calm down around each other, Suzaku especially.

Suzaku takes a look at his wrist - again to discover, annoyed, that he isn't wearing a watch. He plucks his cell phone out of his pocket. It's eleven thirty. "I should probably be getting back," he says softly.

"You don't have to. I have no problem with you staying the night here," Lelouch offers, watching the boy's eyes widen, "don't worry, you can sleep in my sister's bed if you'd like." Nunnally is staying with Sayoko on the first floor. The woman is truly a blessing to their fraction of a family. C.C. is another story; she is probably off doing shots with a group of sex-starved college boys.

"I live right down the hall," Suzaku says, sniffing. He's definitely a little tipsy already. Young people and their lack of tolerance. "Can't you be without me for a few hours, Lelouch?" he says with a coy look, cocking an eyebrow. He doesn't consciously _want _to leave, he just knows it'll probably be a good idea for him to, or Clovis will be asking questions in that annoying drawl that barely qualifies as a voice. And what if he sleeps in past three and misses Euph -

(_don't think about her)_

"I could, but I don't want to." Lelouch shrugs and takes another long drink before going on, sated, "I'd like it if you'd stay... that's how you can make up my paying for dinner." He smiles devilishly, his violet eyes twinkling beneath their sooty lashes in a way that could only be described as dastardly. Suzaku's nose crinkles for a moment.

"That isn't fair." His voice is quiet.

Lelouch feels a tugging on his chest at the idea of Suzaku leaving, and his brain goes into overdrive for a few short moments. "I'll lend you something to sleep in. You can leave as early as you want." _Or as late as you want. There's really no rush. _He gives him a charming smile and gazes down into his glass; the ice is melting a bit, tiny half-moon shapes among the diluted vodka. When he looks back up Suzaku is sucking on an ice cube himself, crunching it. He is deliberating doing this too slowly; like he's trying to bait him or something like that. However, no matter how much Lelouch sets his mind on keeping his cool, anticipation takes over his face.

Really, what could be so bad about crashing at Lelouch's for the night? He really doesn't want to go back there and deal with Clovis's weird musings, or his creaky mattress. He doesn't want to go lie in bed and worry over everything in his life, finally sinking into sleep in the wee hours of the morning. Plus, if he stays here tonight there's the added bonus of his annoyingly wonderful professor, whom he secretly wishes to sleep next to. Okay, maybe not so secretly.

Besides, he feels kind of hot. Too hot to traipse down the hallway back to his residence. Too hot to really put up a fight. "I suppose I c – "

"Good." Lelouch's lips curve up farther than he thought humanly possible and he drains his glass, placing it next to Suzaku's already-empty one. He feels giddy, like a child promised sweets for later, at the prospect of Suzaku as an overnight guest. "Now, let's see who can drink their next glass the fastest."

––—∞—––

Later, Lelouch can't sleep. His brain is going haywire because despite his efforts to ignore him, the fact remains that Suzaku is unbelievably next to him in bed, his back pressed up against his. He doesn't understand why the boy frightens and shocks him so, by doing the tiniest little things… though right now, he doesn't want to think about it, he will not think about it. He must focus.

With a thin leg, he nudges Suzaku in the side. "Mm?" the younger breathes heavily. "Lelouch?"

"Yes."

"…you're… awake." Suzaku slurs. "Bed bugs bite?"

He doesn't quite understand that. "No." Lelouch rolls over onto his back, bringing a long-fingered hand to Suzaku's brown head. He strokes the thick hair softly, seemingly absentmindedly, but even _this _- this simple touching that Suzaku is at most idly enjoying - is driving him crazy.

Bleary green eyes blink open as Suzaku turns to face him. His suspicions are confirmed: the boy is positively smashed. "…like my hair, don't you," he says, somehow sounding hazy and alert at the same time. "It's okay." He smiles pleasantly and closes his eyes. Lelouch smiles back at him, though he can't see it, and continues threading his fingers through the endless hair.

This Suzaku (the drunk one) is compliant and sweet, but just as cute as the normal, guarded Suzaku. Lelouch doesn't know which one he likes better.

"Mm," Suzaku repeats, stretching his arms around Lelouch to pull him into a loose embrace – then the professor takes it as his cue to climb on top of him. Suzaku inhales, murmurs 'vanilla' and drifts off for another minute or two before Lelouch speaks.

"Suzaku," he says quietly, "can I kiss you?"

"Me first," Suzaku says, with a childish tinge to his voice as he tries kiss the tip of his nose but aims a bit far to the left. Still, Lelouch's heart jumps, and he angles his mouth to kiss Suzaku hard, hands still in his hair. His eyes are open by a sliver; the last thing he sees are Suzaku's impossibly long brown eyelashes before they slide shut.

Suzaku's mind is pleasantly empty, full of nothing but Lelouch monopolizing his senses - Lelouch's hands in his hair, Lelouch's pretty face, Lelouch's vanilla smell - he breathes into his mouth and reciprocates.

He's satisfied with the way Suzaku's tongue explores, (a bit more lazy and uncoordinated than before; but that's to be expected) tasting every square inch of his mouth; he's got to hand it to the boy's girlfriend, she's taught him well. He feels the hands tighten on his back, and their kissing intensifies, tongues escaping mouths, sucking lips and knocking noses, the areas around their mouths slick with spit.

Then Suzaku says something.

(_"Mm – mm… I like you.")_

Wet noises and hard breathing fill the air, and Lelouch feels a rush of accomplishment burst heavy through his veins.

Vigor renewed, he escapes Suzaku's cosseting tongue long enough to go for the neck, sucking at the sensitive skin under his chin. Herky-jerky breaths are escaping the younger as Lelouch's teeth brush rough against his pulse point.

Lelouch is pulling off Suzaku's suit jacket with more force than necessary and unbuttoning the shirt - or starting to, until Suzaku gets impatient and grabs his wrist, shoving it up under the fabric. An unexpected but welcome compromise. Lelouch feels the hard stomach and chest, finally reaching the heart that's certainly bludgeoning his poor ribcage, beating so hard.

He removes his hands from Suzaku's shirt and pulls the boy up to his lips by his tie; this time, it's a short kiss. He lets himself rest on top of Suzaku, arms around his neck.

While he wants desperately to fuck Suzaku right now, he knows that it would be wrong - and worse, it wouldn't even be _worth _it.

No, he wants fight him for control in a completely new way.

Plus, he's tired.

He opens his eyes heavily. This is the first time he has ever truly _seen _the boy up close; certainly he has been in this proximity before, but never has he cared to actually take in more than the blatant pretty face. Suzaku has exactly six freckles on his nose, and a tiny scar on the crease of his jaw. He has beautiful bone structure, whereas Lelouch - well, Lelouch is pretty, at best.

It is almost comical - to think such short, crude thoughts about Suzaku, then spend minutes admiring his beauty, thinking of him as a precious commodity that he can never be. He turns over, a lump in his throat.

He looks at Suzaku's sleeping form with a consternation he didn't have before and touches his face, watching him frown with confusion in his sleepy state. A few strokes to his hair and he's relaxed again, slumbering peacefully in dreamland, like Lelouch wishes he was.

He kisses the chapped lips and turns over, unable to look at him any more for fear of contemplating all night. One single string of thought sums it all up perfectly:

He's got to figure out just how he feels about this boy.

––—∞—––

_I hate myself right now._

Rivalz stares glassily at the latest angst-ridden anecdote of Suzaku's life.**_ Would you like to tell me why? _**He asks, like a good friend should, and slides the note back to Suzaku.

_I think you already know._

**I know you're depressed, that's about it. Is it the Lelouch thing? I already gave you my take on it.**

_But I didn't even tell you about last night yet!_

**You had sex, didn't you.**

_No. I was drunk. I don't know everything that happened, but I don't think we did._

**You could always ask him. Isn't that why you're here? I thought you were skipping all your classes today to see Euphy.**

_Not this one._

**Of course.** At these two words, Rivalz is hit by Suzaku's stormy expression, and he smiles in reply. The brunet looks away, nibbling on his lip, turning his gaze to the closed door of Lelouch's office.

After his lecture, the professor had retreated behind the door to grade papers, or make a phone call, or something he doesn't really remember; he had been too busy drawing a picture of a pineapple in his notebook to pay any attention to the latest symbolic tirade. He stands and makes his way through the rows, trying to ignore the fluorescent lighting that's intensifying his headache. Finally he reaches the door and knocks carefully.

A pair of violet eyes blink as it opens. "Hello, Suzaku," Lelouch says, in an annoyingly chipper voice, "Is there something you need?"

Suzaku makes a face. "We have to talk," he says quietly, biting his lip. "In private," he mutters, casting a sideways look to his classmates, who are all absorbed either in daydreams or in studies. Lelouch rises to the occasion perfectly well, ushering him into the tiny room and closing the door behind them.

When they're alone, Lelouch opens with, "Hung-over, are we?" he notes Suzaku's general groggy air and the tired look about him.

"I can't hold my liquor," Suzaku says quickly, "but that's not why I'm here. I want to ask you if we-"

"Fucked?" such a vulgar word, falling from such usually poetic lips, strikes odd to Suzaku.. After a few agonizing moments, he says, "No, we didn't." He closes his eyes and turns away, "Though I wish we had."

Suzaku breathes. "We made out, didn't we?"

Lelouch gives him a curt nod, taking a seat in front of his computer and opening the document he's presumably been working on until this little visit. "I didn't want to take advantage of you," he says in a level voice, a sour twinge at the edge of it. Suzaku's chest opens in relief; he wouldn't be able to take the guilt that would surely accompany sleeping with Lelouch. Still, he isn't immune to the rush of affection that always accompanies _seeing _him.

"How are you?" he asks softly.

"Mmm," Lelouch continues to type. "I'm fine. I was wondering what on earth you were doing during the lecture, since you didn't look at me once."

"I was drawing," Suzaku says truthfully, and after looking at Lelouch a bit longer, he finally deduces why the older is so grouchy. "Sorry I left this morning without saying goodbye… I was just." he really doesn't have an answer or even an excuse; what is he supposed to say, that waking up beside Lelouch terrified him, and he'd run off in a daze, having forgotten how he had even gotten there? "I was just surprised."

Lelouch remembers the way Suzaku looked at him and quite agrees with that approximation. "I convinced you to sleep in my bed. It took a lot of perseverance on my part."

"Why?"

"You argued with me, said you were a cover hog," Lelouch finally turns away from the computer, swiveling around in his chair to face Suzaku. "Though you were a bit out of it, which I'm sure you know now," he finishes, and Suzaku nods fervently. "Next time I'll cut you off."

_Next time? _Suzaku isn't sure if his heart is thumping from anticipation or anxiety. "Yeah," he says finally. Today, Lelouch is a bit more casual - in a black sweater in dark jeans, it's obvious he didn't spend as much time on his appearance. The weird thing is, he prefers it to the suit and tie. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine," Lelouch lies in a breath, closing his eyes and opening them slowly. "You slept like a rock."

"I wouldn't know it." Suzaku's head seems to pound harder as he affirms its condition. He leans back against the desk, burying a hand in his hair, taking a minute to breathe. Lelouch's office isn't quite as tidy as his home, but then again he doesn't have as much time to clean it. "When did C.C. get back?"

"She dropped in around nine," the older says, remembering the shameless pounding on the door that had woken him from his already erratic night's sleep, and being drilled about the night's sexual activities, or lack thereof. "Nunnally has a cold; she'll be there all day."

"I'm sorry," Suzaku says, and means it. Nunnally's life seems taxing enough already. "I'll leave you alone," he says quietly, turning on his heel only to have his wrist caught. Lelouch pulls him down and gives him soft kiss before pulling away wetly, turning back to his computer screen as if nothing had happened.

Suzaku leaves the office, unable to feel the ground underneath his feet.

When he gets back, Rivalz hisses, "What's the verdict?"

"We didn't," the Japanese youth whispers back, but the bluenette notices the expression his friend's face and gives him an incredulous look. "Really."

"I believe you," he says, "but what happened just now?"

The adrenaline wipes off Suzaku's face, replaced promptly by indifference. "Nothing," he says, re-opening his notebook to look over the notes he didn't take.

"You seem pretty pleased about cheating on Euphy," Rivalz reminds, watching a muscle jump in Suzaku's jaw.

For a moment, he considers backhanding Rivalz, but after thinking about it more, that really was justified. His chest is tight. "I'm not," he says lowly. "I'm telling her when she comes over later, remember?" That's a hurdle he's getting more and more anxious to jump; a hiccup he wants to get out of his system, damn the consequences. "It'll be fine."

"You haven't decided yet, have you. Between the two of them." He's not even finished with the sentence and already Suzaku's eyes are already transfixed on him; unsure, worried, jumpy green.

"No," he murmurs, and that is the end of the conversation.

––—∞—––

When he sees her, Suzaku nearly gets sick on the spot.

She's so beautiful in her white sundress, her hair free and somewhat curly - she's neglected it today, but it does nothing to detract from the hypnotizing image she projects. It's never been like this, his heart swelling with both love and guilt so strong, it's hard to tell which is dominant. Still, he must say something. "Euphy!" he says (chokes) and pulls her into an embrace, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Euphemia laughs merrily.

"I missed you too," she says, since he's holding on a bit tight. Still, she enjoys it, having yearned to visit him again every day since last time.

They break apart and kiss, Euphemia thinking about how long it has been, and Suzaku thinking about how different Lelouch's kisses are - much more urgent, more tugging, yet much less affectionate. His stomach turns at the thought of the professor and tries to dismiss him from his mind. When they pull apart, she looks at him for a long while, her lavender eyes unreadable. Then: "How are you?"

_I'd rather be dead. _"I'm well, thank you," he says formally, lost in thoughts of _how am I going to tell her _and _maybe I shouldn't tell her? _"I've just... how are you?"

"I'm great," she says with all honesty, smiling up at him and clasping her hands together. Upon further inspection of her boyfriend, she sees the purple tinge of dark circles. "Have you been sleeping, Suzu?"

"I didn't last night... there was a pretty crazy party." _And you can casually mention... kissing Lelouch somewhere in here... _"Rivalz almost broke his arm, you know. Fell and landed on it. It's a fracture, they say. I got dared to kiss a guy, can you believe that?"

She giggles; his heart thumps. Ker-klunk ker-klunk ker-klunk. Then:

"Of course I can, it's University. Strange things are bound to happen every once and a while."

He can't believe it; of course, he hadn't expected gentle Euphemia to have a bitch fit or anything, (that was more of a Shirley thing) but he hadn't expected her to find it so _amusing, _either. Granted, he left out the part about it being a professor, about the date, about sleeping in his bed, and about kissing him more than once - but getting something off your chest doesn't necessarily mean you have to elaborate, does it? Oh, the joys of guilt.

"Yeah. I've been dared to do some weird stuff so far... I was thinking about joining a fraternity, but I get the feeling there's more to that than kissing a few guys."

He's rambling, but his stomach is in knots, because at any moment she's going to ask him more about it and his resolve is going to crumble.

"They make you do embarrassing things," Euphemia says mistily, thinking of the crazy stories her roommates have told her. She takes a seat on his bed, sprawling out as if it were her own. He likes that she is so comfortable here. "How do you sleep in _this_?"

Suzaku shrugs. "I guess I'm just always so tired," he says absentmindedly, joining her on the mattress.

She looks up at him, a twinkle in her eye. "Are you tired now?"

A familiar little spring in his chest, and his eyes mirror hers. "Not a bit," he says, falling into an old pattern that smells wonderfully like an _escape _from the thundering guilt that flickers through him full-force, "I might even be up some exercise."

"Really?"

"If you want…"

(Suzaku finds that, usually, once his pants are off, he doesn't think much. About Lelouch or anything else.)

––—∞—––

"So you got laid."

"Yeah."

"And… still miserable? Did you tell her?"

"I couldn't. It - I couldn't."

"Why the hell not?"

"I know, I should've. But looking at her, I - it just wouldn't come out."

"Jeeze, Suzaku, I expected you to spill it the second you walked through the door."

A sharp breath outward.

"I know."

Suzaku and Rivalz are at the bowling alley, waiting their turn. Shirley is up, staring at the pins down the alley as if she is greatly intimidated by them. They use this time as an opportunity to speak about Suzaku's predicament in hushed voices, stopping abruptly when the redhead comes back to them, flushed and upset by her lack of bowling ability.

"You… guys… ugh." She flumps down unceremoniously, and the illuminated blue screen beeps, followed by _Suzaku _in white letters.

The brunet gets to his feet and bowls a perfect strike - after all, those muscles he's gained from yard work have to be put to use sometime. When he gets back, Shirley is fuming silently - she really can't take losing to him, whether it be Lelouch or this simple, last minute bowling adventure Rivalz had suggested.

"Your go," he says, but Rivalz is already up on his feet. He makes conversation with Shirley. "So, how are things going with you two?"

"Us two?" she inclines her head toward the bluenette, and seeing Suzaku's nod, she answers, "Well, nothing much. He keeps asking me out... once a week, actually."

Rivalz knocks down eight pins; he nails the two remaining on his next shot, as well. Pleased as punch, he comes back to the seats, and Shirley leaves.

"Is she on the rag or something?" Rivalz mutters to her retreating back.

"I don't know, but do you really ask her out every week?"

"This isn't about us, this is about you and Lamperouge. I think - and don't hit me - I think you might have a crush on him, or something. If you got laid and you still want to go after him, I don't see what else it could be."

The truth of that statement hits Suzaku hard in the solar plexus. Green eyes drift down to those garish bowling shoes, and after a stagnant pause, he says, "I really hope you're wrong." And gets up, taking his turn and only dropping nine pins this time. This is still leagues better than the others' scores; he will inevitably win the game, and Rivalz and Shirley will split the cost of a pizza, as promised. With only two cycles left, he is truly ready to leave, go back to his dorm, soak in a hot bath, crawl into bed and die quietly.

His friends will have nothing of his attitude. "Cheer up, Suzaku!" Shirley calls out, grabbing his arm and pulling him from the floor back down to their seats. "Rivalz says he's sick and tired of you being suicidal, and I agree!"

"I'm not suicidal," he says, but it falls upon deaf ears.

"Oh, please! You sulk all the time and you never want to go anywhere with us!"

_You sulk more than I do - _Suzaku catches himself mid-thought, struck with a realization. Does he sulk more than Shirley, the queen of blues?

"I do want to go places, I'm - I'm just in a funk, that's all. I'll be okay soon, promise." He gives her a sunny smile and the indignance flicks off her face, replaced with affection.

"Good," she says. "It's your turn, Rivalz."

"Huh? Oh, right." He sets out for the floor.

"So yeah, anyway." Shirley pops a gum bubble, reverting back to her gossipy-girl ways, "Rivalz says he really likes me, and all that crap."

Suzaku blinks. "But he does."

"No, he doesn't. He's still torn up over Milly."

The brunet purses his lips, "A little. But that doesn't make him a ruined man. He can like other girls." Suzaku wonders how he can be so adept with giving good advice, but when it comes to his own relationships, he's entirely lost. "Like you. You should give him a chance. One date won't hurt, right?"

Indecision wars openly on Shirley's face.

"But I don't want him to think I like him back."

"Do you?"

"I don't think so."

She opens her purse and pops a mint in her mouth; she offers one to Suzaku, but he shakes his head. They'll be eating soon anyway. Rivalz returns, a bit disdainful, because all that effort resulted in the dreaded gutter ball.

Suzaku bowls a strike; on his way back, he watches them discreetly. Shirley's entirely laissez-faire, slumped in her seat, talking with minimal regard for manners or posture. And Rivalz is as completely enthralled as a pauper speaking with a princess.

Is that what he looks like when he's talking to Lelouch?

No. Lelouch is different.

But why is Lelouch hypnotized by him (of all people) as well?

_(stop thinking about it)_

Suzaku sits, a sigh escaping his lips upon impact. "Let's just get out of here," he says, looking at them both in turn. Rivalz looks a bit disappointed but Shirley visibly perks up, getting to her feet. They follow her back to the front and they return their shoes.

Rivalz's car waits out front. "Well, Suzaku, since we all threw the game, you didn't really _win _it. So we _all _split the cost of pizza." He grins toothily and doesn't catch sight of Suzaku's glare, just opens his door and gets in. The brunet joins him, sitting in the passenger seat, leaving Shirley to be chauffeured in the back.

There is a pizza parlor on 54th Street, and this is where they stop to eat. Rivalz orders a large pizza with extra cheese, whilst Suzaku sits at the table and Shirley mills around the counter, observing the brightly colored pictures of the other pizzas just yearning to be purchased. They all sit down to eat, in that predictably food-induced silence.

Suzaku ponders his growing relationship with Lelouch; Rivalz premeditates his next proposition to Shirley; and said redhead just eats, her mind on nothing more complex than what she's consuming

Eventually they have come to the end of the large pizza. The cost is split evenly - though Shirley goes on a ten-minute tirade concerning the 'ridiculous' tax, which was only about two dollars added to the entire purchase. Suzaku smiles and agrees; he's in no mood to be combative, objective, or anything more intricate than simply confused.

He has to sort things out - he doesn't want to, but he has to. Next time, he will get up the guts to confess the entire story to Euphy, not some sugar-coated little comment about a dare that didn't happen. He'll get up the guts.

If he doesn't, he'll mope. And who wants that?

––—∞—––

Clovis answers the door, his hair a mess. "Hello, Suzaku," he says, a bit dazed. "I thought you were gone for good."

_Paranoid much? _The brunet cocks his head to the side, like a dog. "I was only gone a few hours." He enters the dorm, a wave of relief coursing through his system; now he can be, for the most part, alone. He loves Rivalz and Shirley, but they tend to over-stimulate him.

"Oh." As if Clovis didn't know. "Well, welcome back," he says warmly, getting back under his covers and closing his eyes. "Before I forget - a note came for you. I didn't read it. It's on your desk."

Suzaku frowns. "Who delivered it?"

"A girl in a wheelchair."

His heart lurches in his chest, and he hurries to the desk, flipping on his light and peeling open the note. He recognizes Lelouch's neat, looping writing. _I find myself wondering about the next time I'll see you - outside class. Dinner sometime this week?_

Suzaku swallows the hard lump in his throat, trying to ignore the euphoria flouncing through his midsection with the re-induction of the Lelouch-mania he's spent the last few hours trying to smother. The note is written on a peace of Manila paper, but it may as well be written in his blood, as it all seems to have left him.

_And they say college doesn't change people._

––—∞—––


	6. he blurs the line

_It's a dream we all should count on, a vision I believe  
that confidence is found attached to wires on our sleeves  
__**  
violetta 06**_

––—∞—––

Suzaku has decided that he hates festivals.

Maybe it's the children screeching about how they want just a few more dollars to play a game for some toy that will break in two days, or the nauseatingly greasy stench of hot dogs and popcorn, or the fact that his girlfriend is clinging onto his arm holding a gigantic stuffed Moogle, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at this or that. He is exhilarated by her presence but internally pulverized by his guilt and the irritation that's come to be since the moment they walked into Pendragon's annual Harvest Festival.

He takes a hard breath as Euphemia wanders off toward a stand selling god-knows-what, and tries to ignore the fact that Rivalz is calling his name in his nasally voice, hurrying toward him with Shirley at the rear. He takes a half-left turn and tries to focus on the clouds, which are rather ugly and gray this afternoon.

Rain, during a festival? What a shame.

"Suzaku~" Shirley seems positively delighted by his presence, her green eyes glimmering - or maybe that's just sunlight, who knows. "I won a panda!" she shoves the overlarge black-and-white bear in his face, and he manages to smile.

"Nice," he says. "How long have you two been here?"

"Since this morning," says Rivalz, pushing up the sleeves of his bright blue hoodie. "We walked from campus, I had a little car trouble." He finishes with a look that suggests that what he went through earlier was much more than a bit of car trouble, but telling the story would only make his mood worse. Suzaku was grateful for the little things. "Euphy?"

The pink-haired maiden is back, clutching her Moogle and drinking something most likely frozen and overly sweet. "Hi, Rivalz! I haven't seen you in forever!" she hands her prize to Suzaku and envelopes both the bluenette and Shirley in a hug. Suzaku feels a twang in his side upon seeing his friends and girlfriend reunited; it's strange, like something has broken between the four of them. "I tried to call you, but you never answered!"

"I will next time," Shirley promised, and Suzaku suspects she never answers for the very same reason he doesn't: too busy with others. "Suzaku, what's wrong?"

"Huh? Nothing," he tries his best to blank his face out and succeeds, "I just feel cold, is all." Good going. That's not totally a lie, either. After all, he's wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and the rest of them are decked out in winter clothing. Damn his inability to shop according to the seasons. "What time is it, anyway?"

Fumbling to push his sleeve back, Rivalz finally says, "3:36," and inside, Suzaku groans. Only two miserable hours have passed since he started onto this excursion with his oh-so-beautiful girlfriend and the recent addition of his friends. He's trying to justify his newfound peevishness at spending time with the girl who is supposed to be the love of his life, and the grating pain he's feeling in his stomach.

Maybe it's guilt, or maybe it's that corndog he ate.

A band starts playing and Euphemia's pleased as punch – _Suzaku, let's dance_ - and against his better judgment, he does, joining tan hands with alabaster ones and following Euphy's lead.

Throughout the time that they've been together, Suzaku has always noticed that there are two things he and Euphemia do together that make him forget absolutely everything else in the world. The first happened in the previous chapter. The second is dancing.

For example: at this moment, Suzaku has managed the annoyances of the people around and losing himself in his girlfriend's sanguine face, letting his mind go free. He's never liked jazz but he doesn't mind it now - because right now, Lelouch does not exist, and in his head, it's the memory of two fourteen-year-olds on the snowy walk home from school, a warm light, a winter's day.

Not long into the dance, however, he catches Rivalz's gaze over Shirley's shoulder, and they exchange a look. Not a mean look, but a look all the same (similar to the one Maneha used to give him when he would misbehave as a child), shaving off a layer of his pride. He breaks their stare and twirls Euphy, her pink hair whipping his face as a breeze sweeps over, and his growing abscess of is for another moment assuaged by a combination of her beauty and his willpower.

When the song ends, he goes forward and kisses her as applause rains around for the band, and when they break apart, she gives him a strong smile. Suzaku has become a better kisser, within the small amount of time they've been apart, and it makes her ache a bit more, because Euphemia knows that tomorrow she'll be back in her estrogen-fest of a dorm room with no boyish smiles or big green eyes. Oh, the torment. "It's getting cold," she remarks, hugging herself and closing her legs a bit tighter beneath her dress.

"I know," Suzaku has goose bumps up and down his arms. "Let's go somewhere else," they lock hands - his grip insistent, but not unwelcome - and he leads her away from the crowd, near the large fountain that marks the heart of Downtown Pendragon. He sits and she does the same, re-locking their hands since Suzaku let go.

"I really don't mind the cold," she confesses, "I just wanted to get away."

"Same." He wasn't thinking the same, but she doesn't know that; in actuality, he just wanted to escape Rivalz and his scathing looks. "How long d'you think it'll be before winter sets in? It's inhuman for it to be this cold in September."

"I don't know." Regardless of when winter sets in, October will mark the season she will see less and less of Suzaku. In winter, she must complete much more work for her portfolio, due a week after the New Year starts, and visits to Pendragon will be seldom to never. "Are you going to be anything for Halloween? You could be Peter Pan, like junior year!"

"That was a dare," Suzaku said defensively, remembering Milly's adamant proclamation that he would be the Disney hero for Halloween, and that she would be Wendy. They had won the costume contest easily against Rivalz and Shirley, Seuss's Thing 1 and Thing 2. They'd never really had a chance. "I'm never doing it again. If I'm going to be anything for Halloween, it's a ghost."

She pouts. "No one will know it's you!"

"That's the point."

And Suzaku's resolve shatters when he sees a pair he nearly prayed not to see - Lelouch and C.C., coming up the street from the east side of town, talking softly to each other. He bows his head. "Shit." By what stretch of the imagination did he convince himself that Lelouch never left campus?

Euphemia gapes. "Suzaku? Are you okay?"

He rushes to formulate an answer, "It's my Literature professor, he's coming this way," Suzaku says through his teeth, though he cannot be certain if Lelouch is approaching him or not. He always expects the worst. Through the corner of his eye he scrutinizes them - C.C., beautiful in a red dress and heels, and Lelouch, dressed to match her in a red sweater and black slacks. They almost looked like a married couple, except Suzaku is quite sure Lelouch would rather commit suicide. "He's a bit odd," he says finally, unsure of what Euphemia would believe. "Sort of over-involved."

She blinks. Why is Suzaku so shaken up, by merely seeing a professor whose class he attends every day anyway? "We can just go say hi," she suggests uncertainly, watching a muscle jump in Suzaku's jaw before the last word even escaped her lips.

"No, we can't," he says quickly, "We'll just sit here until they pass." His nerves turn to ice as Lelouch catches sight of him and gives him a curt nod, accompanied with a look that makes Suzaku feel, of all things,_sleazy_. Lelouch's gaze flicks to Euphemia and the self-assured leer intensifies. C.C. waves almost lazily at Suzaku, and he knows she's less-than-sociable because her stomach is more than likely rumbling for pizza. Suzaku smiles at them both - act normal - and turns to Euphemia. "Are they leaving?"

She gives him a look.

"What's wrong with you, Suzaku?"

"Nothing," is his uncomfortable reply, "I just - I'm not exactly fond of Professor Lamperouge. He's overbearing." Which is true; the raven-haired man is quite full of himself, merely confident on a bad day. Suzaku tries to ignore the fact that he is noticeably shaking, but Euphy is certainly catching on, if her vexed look means anything. When he looks back at Lelouch, his face flares hot - has he been staring this whole time? The older is looking at him the way a man would look at a steak; hungry, feral, keen.

How isn't Euphy noticing? Worse, why does she want to go and say hi?

"Oh, we're only going to talk for a second," she says firmly, eager to see more of Suzaku's reaction to this oh-so-horrible Professor Lamperouge. She isn't usually so forceful with Suzaku but right now she must be; she pulls him up and jerks him forward, and unsure of what else to do, he takes her hand and lets her lead him, trying as hard as he possibly can not to blow chunks.

"Suzaku," says Lamperouge, in a smooth voice. He has beautiful eyes - a glimmering amethyst. "My favorite student. How are you?"

"Fine," Suzaku says, sounding choked. "This is my girlfriend -"

"Euphemia." He smiles and she is momentarily stupefied, insecure; is this Professor Lamperouge, a man much older than Suzaku, better-looking than her? A horrible thought… but certainly debatable. She dismisses the thought quickly; what would it matter if he was? "Suzaku's told me about you. I hear you're in art school."

"Yes, I'm a painter." She smiles back meekly, disoriented. _Suzaku's told you about me?_ "I'm trying to finish a portfolio."

The woman he's with, with her pale green hair and catlike gold eyes, is a beauty herself, an exact opposite of her in every way possible. This woman is a sharp, austere beauty, a powerful air about her. She looks Euphemia over with cold, thoughtless eyes. "I thought you would be taller," she says faintly, throwing her off even further. Just how friendly is Suzaku with these people? "Lelouch, I'm going to buy pizza. I need money." She doesn't pout or fiddle around like most girlfriends, but staunchly demands. Lelouch - that must be his first name - fishes around in his pocket to produce a fat wallet, handing her a ten. "No card? You disappoint me, queer boy."

"I'm not letting you run around with my card," said Lamperouge, waving her off. Scowling, she disappears into the crowd. "Sorry about that."

"That's okay," Euphemia replied. _Queer boy?_ So Suzaku hangs around with a gay man and that woman? She glances at her boyfriend, who looks as if he'll explode at the lightest touch, and then back to her new acquaintance, who is also watching him. "Suzu, are you all right?"

"Cold," Suzaku replies quickly, making a show of rubbing his arms. "I should've brought a jacket." He looks up and locks gazes with Lelouch - Euphy still can't get over how pretty his eyes are, almost transparent and lightly slanted. With the exception of these eyes, he is emotionless, relaxed, his winter face betraying nothing except a rapt interest in Suzaku's sudden paralysis. They seem to say something to each other, in that glance that lasts no more than three seconds, exchange a secret message; Lelouch smiles vaguely, and Suzaku looks as if he's going to be sick.

"What do you teach, Professor Lamperouge?" she asks.

"Literature. I can't find it in me to be interested in anything else. Did you know that your Suzaku is quite the writer?"

Getting more and more unsettled by the second, she manages, "No, I didn't know that."

"Of course, I don't think men are as open about the creative arts as women are. What exactly do you paint?" he is warm, it seems, but somehow detached at the same time, floating in limbo between interest and disinterest. That's probably because he's paying attention to Suzaku through his peripheral vision, assaulting him with his liquid amaranth eyes. Euphy feels bad for her boyfriend; why does the professor take such pleasure in unhinging him? Why is Suzaku so affected by his attention in the first place?

"Landscapes," she says, trailing off a bit toward the end.

"Ah, disappointing. When I lived in Paris, I met a young man who exclusively painted nude models." Lelouch doesn't elaborate and tell her that he had served as one of the artist's subjects, but this is only their first meeting. Besides, why destroy Suzaku's composure when he's doing such a good job of it on his own? "I don't think I could keep a straight face while painting someone naked. It would certainly be uncomfortable, unless of course you were lovers."

Euphemia blinks. Attractive _and _interested in the fine arts? And with manners? Any woman would be putty in his hands - but he doesn't like women, does he? That is, unless that green-haired girl was just teasing. "I've never been able to paint people. I worry too much about what they would think if they saw it."

"People shouldn't be upset if you see them differently from the way they see themselves. That's part of being an artist." His eyes swivel away from her and back onto the green-haired woman, who's approaching with an entire box of pizza in tow. "Do you feel like having a heart attack tonight, C.C., or are you really that hungry?"

"Don't get snarky with me. I'm hungry," she says sharply, plucking a pepperoni from one of the slices and dropping it on her tongue.

"You know that's all in due time, dear. Aren't you due to inhale some funnel cake as well?"

She doesn't react beyond, "S my C." Then takes a bite of her pizza.

Looking back at Suzaku, Euphemia notices he's calmed down a little, but he is still visibly nervous. Suzaku, my favorite student. And. Your Suzaku is quite the writer. And. Suzaku's told me a lot about you. Her stomach feels like it's being yanked through a taffy puller; just how close are Suzaku and Professor Lamperouge? Maybe she's just paranoid; maybe they're friends and she really needs to stop thinking everyone is out to steal Suzaku away.

(or maybe they're sleeping together)

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. Mother always told you that you had a wild imagination._ Then again, hadn't Suzaku visibly blanched at the sight of Professor Lamperouge, nearly died at the idea of her meeting him? Hadn't the professor given her boyfriend a look that could only be described as lewd? And hadn't he absolutely shattered at the sight of it?

Euphy wants to vomit, too, but it's all just so ludicrous - Suzaku's straight as an arrow, always has been, chasing girls and expressing interest in marrying her more than once. He simply doesn't swing that way and if he did, he would tell her. He tells her everything.

And then, suddenly, she remembers – on Suzaku's bed, a few days ago. He'd been stroking her hair and it was raining outside. Something, something…

_"Last night, there was a pretty crazy party_ -" he'd mentioned… something about Rivalz, and then -

_"I got dared to kiss a guy, can you believe that?"_

Euphemia almost hurls, right there. "Suzaku?"

His haze is broken by the sound of his girlfriend's voice - she sounds hurt, anxious, and upon turning his eyes her way he realizes she's shaking. "What's wrong?"

"Can we go? I don't feel so well," she asks, pushing her pale hair off her forehead.

"Sureofcourse," he stammers, nodding to Lelouch and taking his girlfriend by the hand - _I'm free, I'm free - "_See you Monday, Professor." He would have said good-bye to C.C. as well, but in all honesty, he forgot she was there.

"Lovely meeting you," Lamperouge says in what sounds like all honesty, shooting Euphemia a smile. She smiles back mildly, her stomach turning; _that's_ the reason why Suzaku is so distant; _that's_ the person Suzaku's replacing her with, the _other woman_ she had been worrying about, who in actuality is a _man. _"Euphemia." Her eyes pinch shut as she turns away, her grip on Suzaku's hand tightening so that it would require something akin to the Jaws of Life to pry them apart.

Once they are away from the sounds and smells of festivity, the first tendrils of anger blossom. "What was going on with you back there, Suzaku Kururugi?" she asks pointedly, locking her lavender eyes to his. "The professor said hi to you and you wanted to die."

Suzaku pursed his lips. "It's hard to explain."

"I'm sure it is. I have time."

She gives him the firmest look she can muster and evidently, it's enough; something on his face softens, but he still looks nauseated, on the brink of vomiting up his intestines all over her shoes and the leaf-covered cobblestones. That is not by any means an exaggeration, and it ties her stomach in knots to see it - _oh god_if he's this sick over it, it must be something truly awful.

"We kissed," he said finally. "More than once. We have... we... I don't know how to explain or justify it. All I did the whole time was think of you and how I was going to tell you. I couldn't. I've been guilty this entire time. It was a mistake." His hair falls over his eyes as he drops his head, not avoiding her gaze but under the weight of that guilt, the brunt of which is hitting him right now as he finally admits his sins to her.

She thinks it over. That story about the party seems like absolute malarkey now. And hadn't he said Rivalz had broken his arm? She hadn't seen a cast earlier.

_Don't you cry, Euphemia._ "And do you love him?" her voice, to her intense surprise, is sound, not craggy or broken like it usually is when she's on the verge of tears. She is upset by what he's done, yes, but what's breaking her up most is the destruction of the idea that _Suzaku loves me, he'll never cheat and he'll never lie_ because right now, all three of those things have come into question, and the foundation on which she's lain her life:

("Promise me you'll marry me when we get older."

"You know I will!"

"I wanna hear you say it."

"I'll marry you, Euphy.")

Is quite close to crumbling.

"I don't know how I feel about him," he says quietly. "I don't." And in that small moment, he's cut the ties between them, the rosy-hued love that's bound them, sliced in half like a piece of paper in a shredder. He's not crying, he's not blubbering and apologizing for what he did - he's just _standing there,_ all brown hair and sad green eyes, in essence telling her that in her absence, he's met someone else, the worst nightmare of any young lover.

He did not come flat out and say it, but _I don't know_ is confirmation enough.

The look on her face nearly makes his bowels liquefy.

"Oh, oh Suzaku," she says breathlessly. "I knew that when you went to University you'd _forget_ all about me. I should've seen this coming."

"_I_ didn't even see it coming," Suzaku pipes up, a frown scrawled across his auburn brow. Suddenly it's easy to speak up to her. "Don't tell me I did this on purpose or decided to leave you, because I didn't. Please don't jump to a conclusion, that's not – "

"I saw the way he looked at you!" finally she breaks, her voice cracking an octave higher. Suzaku looks like someone slapped him. "I'm not _stupid_, Suzaku, don't insult me like that!"

"I don't think you're stupid –" he bites his lip, "you just don't know the whole story. I was drunk out of my mind. I didn't - I can't _even_ -" he stops himself, taking a breath and pressing his hand to his mouth, green eyes searching the treetops for something, a sign, a UFO maybe. "If I didn't want to be with you, I wouldn't be. I chose you over him."

"It doesn't change what you did. Didn't it even cross your mind that you had a girlfriend?" She's sullied her sleeves with tears but now it doesn't even matter, the only thing that matters is reading Suzaku - who is quickly growing detestable in her eyes, yet she can't find it in herself to say anything too scathing - her censored version of the riot act. Because no matter how angry she gets, the vignette of love surrounding everything else will inevitably win. "Or his mind?"

"I'm not sure Lelouch has any morals," Suzaku points out. "And yes, it did cross my mind about a thousand times; I couldn't _sleep_ because it was all I could think about. Lelouch did know about you and I'm sure he knew how upset I was. It was pretty obvious."

He struggles to keep his voice level; for years now, he has been fighting anger that sleeps his below his surface, which only truly awoke one evening ten years ago – and nothing like that can ever happen again. He must keep calm, even when defending himself. "When you assume, you make things worse. So please, Euphy, _please_ listen."

She waits.

He breathes, and tumbles into the story headfirst.

"I met him in my Literature class, of course. I guess he liked me so he asked me to help him tutor Shirley. I did, and he asked me to send him writing, but I – well, I told you about that." He stops, she nods. "One day, he gave me a ride to the library. Shirley likes him so she and Rivalz made bets over whether he was gay or not. I asked him, and he invited me to coffee. I went. He kissed me."

She sucks in a breath. "And you kissed him back?"

"I did." He looks down; her chest flares. "I'm sorry, Euphy. I don't know what happened."

"I think I understand," Euphemia says softly, though she doubts she is even _capable. _"Keep going."

He looks up and meets her eyes; they're gentle, sorrowful but gentle, and she is no longer angry - just seeking understanding, closure. "I went to his office to give him what for, and I wound up kissing him all over again. I liked it. We went... on a dinner date. At the Quarter. I went back to his dorm and we drank... I passed out. When I woke up, we were... kissing again." _Making out._ Green eyes meet periwinkle and he exhales an agonized breath at the tears dripping shamelessly down her face; she is utterly dumbfounded by his betrayal, possibly almost as much as he is, and he knows he must keep going, because the story isn't over yet. "I got home, and I found a note. Asking me to dinner. Tomorrow."

Her eyes snapped shut. "Oh, Suzaku." She gave a laborious breath. "Suzaku, Suzaku, Suzaku." Euphemia pulls him into her sweet embrace and he fights not to cry himself, as he realizes that _maybe I do love Lelouch_ and _she's so good, she can't ever be mad at me, fuck, she should be..._"I'm sorry it had to end this way."

And that statement crashes into Suzaku like a freight train. "End?" his red-ringed eyes are gazing in wide wonder, his mouth open in an almost comical gape, except it isn't funny at all, he's hurting. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Her grip on him tightens and that is as much of a confirmation to him as if she'd had it put in writing. This news, to him, is like the new scarring on virgin land, once it's been rocked by a bolt of lightning.

He'd _never_ thought that Euphemia would be the one to end it, _ever,_ through the fights and quarrels they'd had through the years - and yet now, here she is, breaking up with him because of some stupid decisions he'd made with Lelouch Lamperouge, PhD.

––—∞—––

Four eyes connect, two pairs of lips part, and one breath echoes cold in the air.

"Didn't you say you were going to make breakfast?"

Of course, Suzaku ruins it by being _punctual._ "I… was," Lelouch affirms, but he has been thinking about just how snug his boxers are, particularly the crotch, and well, he hasn't quite consummated their_relationship -_if you could call it that - yet. But through his poignant green eyes, Suzaku conveys persistence. "It's three AM, you really should be getting back anyway." Heated violet eyes flick to the red numerals in the dark; it's actually three-thirty.

Suzaku looks off to the side, his stomach twanging with the unpleasant idea of spending the night in the dorm in which he'd slept with Euphemia last night. "But I'm hungry. And you promised."

"I didn't promise, I just said I would." Lelouch finds himself trailing off at the no-nonsense look on the boy's face; he wants the most important meal of the day, and he wants it now. "I'll see what I can find." His eyes don't pull away from Suzaku's, because the younger is just that good at capturing his attention.

He never really thought of Suzaku as manipulative, merely innocent and begging to be fucked (in Lelouch's eyes anyway), but now he sees a darker side to the boy, possibly the same one that inexplicably holds back the sex they're both vying for - worse, not even dropping any hints as to why he's doing so. But how Lelouch adores his untouchable young friend, and his strange eating patterns, and this is why he moves from his place on top of him to the floor, where he walks unsteadily to the kitchen and flips on the light.

Suzaku slumps after him, wheedling a hand through the brown mess that sits atop his head. His head still feels bloodless from what happened earlier, and perhaps that's because it still hasn't completely dawned on him yet; his girlfriend of two years broke up with him, leaving him with - leaving him with - "Do you have pancakes?"

A dark brow furrows, but Lelouch reaches into his promptly labeled cabinet and unearths a small box of mix. "How did she do it?"

"Hunh?" _He can't possibly be talking about -_

"Euphemia." Lelouch has that strange way of bursting into his mind and figuring out what he's thinking about, even when he's pointedly hiding things. "She figured it out, I could tell. She looked at me as if she knew." The haunted-but-frightened gaze in his girlfriend's eyes had hit home with Lelouch, and had been on his mind right up to the minute Suzaku came to his door at midnight:

("_Lelouch, let me in."_

_"…Suzaku –"_

_"I need you."_)

A moment passes.

"You don't have to tell me."

Thankfully, Suzaku does speak up. "She asked me why I acted so weird when I had to go and say hi to you. She made me do it, I already told you. I spilled everything. I just couldn't keep lying. We broke up."

"That's all?" Lelouch's left eyebrow perks up.

_She asked me if I loved you._

"Pretty much." Suzaku plops unceremoniously down at the kitchen table, sliding up his hand to hide his eyes from the fluorescence and the image of Lelouch in his boxers and sweater. "I still can't believe it, you know?"

"I understand. When I broke up with C.C., I kept forgetting that I had." Lelouch looks back on the fiasco and decided that he's reminisced enough about it for the day. He mixes pancake batter.

Suzaku breathes, "Did you regret it?"

"Never." Realizing that answer is most likely chewing at the boy's nerves, he continues, "But you and I are quite different. You love Euphemia -" he fights to keep the displeasure from his voice- "And I wasn't in love with C.C., I hadn't been for a while." _It's a better story if I don't tell you that I never was._

The brunet takes a shallow breath and focuses his gaze on the tabletop. "You're right, it is different. But - I feel like if I had _really_ loved her, I would have tried to stop her from breaking up with me. Like I would have cared more about losing her at the time." He can't believe he's actually being bracingly honest with Lelouch about his love life, since he knows the other is biased like nobody's business. Still, Rivalz and Shirley, though they mean well, only really care about their own troubles, and Lelouch is the most experienced in this area. It seems that way, at least. "I just let her walk away from me."

"Just because you let her walk away doesn't mean you don't love her." Through bleak eyes, Lelouch measures the amount of additional batter needed, assuming Suzaku wants a large pancake if he bitched that much over it. "Maybe you felt it was the right thing to do. Subconsciously, I mean. Obviously you don't want to let her go, but there was something holding you back, wasn't there?"

"I think you know what it is." Suzaku craned his neck and willed Lelouch to face him, but the other answered with no degree of fervor:

"Myself?" And went into the fridge for milk. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you want to see if I'm worth letting her go." _The greatest sex of your life? Certainly worth it, no questions asked._ "That's what I get from it."

Suzaku resists the urge to ram his head against the table. Sometimes, he forgets how smart Lelouch is. "Yeah, I do."

He sits at the table, stomach tied in knots, and the older makes pancakes behind the stove, a victorious smile slinking up his petal-like lips. A small guilt demon pipes up from within, informing him that he is messing with Suzaku and _you really shouldn't ruin his life just to sleep with him -_all unintelligible blather on the face of Lelouch's conscience, all moral bullshit that works only to snuff out his fun. Suzaku just wants to be fucked and he just wants to fuck him. They don't _love_ each other. To believe in love, Lelouch figures he'd have to be a schoolgirl, which he certainly is not.

Misogynistic thoughts aside, he blinks back into reality and flips Suzaku's finished pancake onto a plate. "Here," and puts it in front of the young man, sitting across from him at the table.

Suzaku smiles appreciatively and cuts it with his fork, while Lelouch watches him, adoration tinged with irritation (pardon the rhyme), the usual cocktail of emotion that arises when they're together. He's only known the boy for a short time, but he already drives him completely crazy, in more ways than one.

Lelouch thinks that maybe he's thinking such complex thoughts because he hasn't slept in two days; his brain tends to dip into deeper places once deprived of sleep long enough. "Good?" the boy nods and continues eating; perhaps he really was hungry. "Are you staying with me today?" a flicker of insecurity lobs at Lelouch, but Suzaku nods again, somewhat absentmindedly as he chews. _I thought so._

Because Suzaku is most certainly feeling lonely, having just been dumped and walked out on. He feels sympathy for the boy, yes, but that is overshadowed by the idea of spending a few hours, a few days even, with the one person who, with the simplest of movements, licks his nerves raw.

Suzaku finishes and looks at Lelouch. "Where do I put this?" he says, hurrying to his feet and looking for a haven for his plate. Lelouch waves lazily with his hand, eyes fixed to Suzaku's.

"Just leave it. Can't we go back to bed?" he doesn't purr or coo the question as he usually would; this time he's honestly tired, so exhausted it feels good.

"Sure." The boy surprises him and flips off the kitchen light, leaving a surprised Lelouch in darkness as he buries himself under the covers once more.

The older joins him and sinks pleasurably into the mattress, his muscles letting free the tight knots he'd acquired throughout the day. "Good night, Suzaku."

"What?"

"I said, good night."

"We're going to sleep?"

"I didn't imply anything else, did I?"

"You don't want to?"

"I'm honestly too tired." Lelouch sighs, exasperated.

"Shame."

"Suzaku, are you saying you _want_ me to come onto you? Just a little while you had no interest in…"

"I was hungry. Just a little while ago, you wanted to."

"I suppose I didn't know how tired I was." It's strange, really; how during the day, the prospect of fucking Suzaku is liquid-hot and constant in Lelouch's veins - and now, when the opportunity is presenting itself to him (or at least, it seems that way) he would rather sleep. Thinking about it a bit more, he'd always wanted to fuck at the end of the few more-involved relationships he had, too. "Please, I'm going to sleep now."

The younger male breathes a tight sigh. "Lelouch…"

"Suzaku?"

"You could at least let me hold you. It would shut me up." he says breezily. Lelouch sighs; he can oblige the boy that much, after all he _is_ lonely.

"Fine." As soon as the words leave his lips, a pair of warm arms locks around his chest, and the tickle of Suzaku's hair brushes against his slender neck. The boy smells like molasses and that unnamable scent he always radiates, pushing a pleasant look across Lelouch's previously puckered face.

Suzaku nudges a leg between Lelouch's - he doesn't remember it, but he always used to do that to Euphemia, a measure of safety as well as intimacy. Lelouch's eyes open quietly as he thinks on the last time he was close to a human being like this - and his brain isn't functioning well enough to supply him with a memory.

He shuts his eyes at last and, as if sensing it, Suzaku sighs deeply, though not quite contentedly, and the breath feels good against Lelouch's neck, momentarily pushing all thoughts of the past from his head and making him remember the boy he's spooning with, an enigma in many ways, uncharted sexual territory, sweet smell and big eyes.

He sinks his face into the pillow cheek-first, feeling Suzaku's grip around him loosen a bit as the younger lapses into slumber.

Or not. "Lelouch, you're cold."

"I don't feel cold."

"You are. Your legs are cold." Suzaku lobs Lelouch with his knee, prompting nothing more than a sleepy _hmph _from the other. "Don't be that way. Don't you want me all over you?"

_Not after you've just been dumped. _A tight breath huffs through Lelouch's nose. "Suzaku, do you _enjoy_ being annoying?"

Suzaku thinks it over. "No, I just." _I like getting under your skin, because you're always getting under mine._ "What's the word I'm looking for?"

Lelouch doesn't reply, trying to dissuade Suzaku from continuing. He nudges his annoying leg away.

"Oh, frisky."

"Suzaku, I'm not above slapping you in the face."

"Go for it. You could never beat me up."

"Apparently I can never sleep either."

––—∞—––

"I don't see why you hate this band," said C.C. over the warbling radio, "You have horrible taste in music." She kicks off red pumps and rubs her feet together, stretched out like a cat on Lelouch's bed, dress hiked up to show bright red panties.

"Have you any decency?" asks her temporary roommate, disgusted as he yanks his sweater over his head.

"It didn't used to bother you," she reminds, wagging her ass in the air and watching the revulsion spider web across his features, "What, does my ass pale in comparison to Suzaku's? Would you like me to strut around in skintight jeans, blissfully unaware that you can see my ass jiggle as I walk?" the deer-in-the-headlights expression she sees in the mirror confirms her suspicion that Lelouch _does_ in fact lust over Suzaku's derriere like a hungry animal - anyone with an ounce of libido would.

"At least _I_ get the pleasure of slapping his ass," he says unabashedly, "As soon as his girlfriend leaves town."

"She's very pretty, you know," C.C. muses, "In a virginal choir-girl sort of way. Have they fucked?"

"I think so; it's in the body language." Lelouch slumps down next to her on the bed, facing the east wall and that _annoying_ music. "Though if she has any brain activity, she won't take him back. Did you see how easily he fell apart?"

"You're not fair to him," she says, caring about something other than herself if only for a menial amount of time. "You love embarrassing him; you've never acted this way with anyone else."

"Suzaku is different," he reiterates for the thousandth time, "He's a challenge." He continues to think about the way Suzaku had come to him in the night, panicked and dying for companionship, and the way he had held onto him – desperately. Like if he tried hard enough, Lelouch would've become Euphemia and all would forgiven. When they woke, the boy had dressed quickly and left, like he was ashamed.

Which he probably was, all things considered.

"I've noticed. Your sheets don't stink like cum, so I figured he was a bit on the prudish side."

Lelouch scoffs, his nose flaring. He's thankful Nunnally stayed with Sayoko again this evening, if only to save her from this sort of talk. "I wouldn't leave dirty sheets on my bed. Who do you think you're talking to?"

"You just reminded me," she mutters, shooting him one of her listless smiles before turning on her side. "Though I could never forget someone so tedious. You spend all your time worrying about the little things."

He muses, "The little things are what matter." And they fall into the haze of comfortable exhaustion, her body arced opposite his own. He has never felt a desire to but he wonders why C.C. neglects to try and cuddle with him as she had before, even after he came out to her, through his myriad of boyfriends. Perhaps it's the maternal influence he so lacks that makes him want to be coddled - or perhaps it's just the longtime human desire to want to sleep alongside another. "Have you been working on getting a job?"

"Mmmmmm. I went for an interview yesterday at an ice cream parlor. They said I was inexperienced."

"Too inexperienced to press a button on a machine? You have a college degree; you have to aim a bit higher than being the girl who sells ice cream."

"What if I don't want to be anything more than that? It was Mother's decision to even send me to college. If you'll recall, I wanted to be a beautician." And yes, he does remember her, the quick-witted girl he was dating who had the idea of opening her own shop, and driving employees like slaves to pay them minimum wage.

"I remember."

For a minute or two, they're silent. Then: "You need a haircut yourself, Lelouch. People are really going to start thinking you're a girl."

He frowns, aristocratic cheekbones and dark, annoyed eyes. "That isn't true. My hair is my own business." He skirts some of the dark mess away from his eyes, focusing blearily on the ceiling fan.

"I'm just telling you what's good for you. You don't have anyone else who'll be honest."

"Did it ever occur to you that your opinion holds no stead in my eyes?"

"Many times."

"And that makes you want to repeat yourself more? That's illogical."

She smiles. "Illogical, but true."

Another moment passes. "Really, turn off this music."

"You don't like Lady Gaga? What kind of gay man are you? _Can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read my, poker face~"_

Lelouch's violets roll. "I could like her if she weren't so strange."

C.C., avid fan of the avant-garde singer, retorts, "Look who _you_ hang out with." She props her leg up in the air, crossing it over the other as she stares up at the ceiling, her pale lips curved in the self-assured smile that's so much like his.

He bristles. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, me, for one thing. I have green hair. And Suzaku, well - he's an Eleven… _I won't tell you that I love you, kiss or hug you -"_

Lelouch grumbles something incomprehensible and gets to his feet, pulling the chord from the wall and stopping the music. "I told you at dinner, you shouldn't talk about him like that."

"I'm sure his friends talk about _you_ like that. Call you a pedophile." She's baiting him as she always does; something within C.C. has always retained the desire to watch Lelouch bristle and try to defend himself in a losing battle of wits. (Suzaku is quickly becoming the same way; perhaps people just like to watch Lelouch get a taste of his own medicine.)

"I'm not a pedophile. Suzaku's eighteen," the blackette replies primly, lifting his chin in an expression of his rightness.

"Still. That's a twelve-year age difference," C.C. presses.

He cocks an eyebrow. "You've never slept with an older man?"

"Not _that_ much older. You should try fucking someone your own age. What's the appeal in _children?"_

_"_If I were an actual pedophile, you and I wouldn't be here right now. I'd be in prison being raped and you would most likely be working a corner somewhere." He says this as seriously as a man discussing the death of his wife. "You know I've always had a bit of a self-control issue."

"I know." Before sex, Lelouch's previous vice had been none other than food, but he'd never gained a single pound from it. She had been endlessly jealous of his metabolism, but then hers has always been substantial as well, considering the pizza. "I think you just don't want to look for things in life that are _actually_ fulfilling. You'd rather lop it all off as pointless and continue fucking the entire universe."

"That was blunt."

"I always am," she says smoothly. "Though a good lay would be in my best interest now, too. Can you believe it's been a month? I'd be out looking right now if I weren't on the rag."

"Fabulous," Lelouch replies dryly. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Why, Lulu," she simpers. "I could only have confidence in you - confidence that you would tell no one what I tell you."

"About how you're bleeding through all the boxers I lend you? I think I'll spare the six o'clock news."

"Oh, Lelouch." She sighs.

"What?"

She leans up a bit, squinting gold through the darkness, and sees the source of that chemical smell that's been bothering her. "You left the oven on."

––—∞—––

Lelouch pushes his grade book closed, his pale lids slipping over his eyes in the place of a sigh - he's honestly a bit too tired for even that. Today has been a long day not only because of his work but because he didn't get any sleep last night, thanks to C.C.'s decision to analyze his psyche for six hours, maybe a little longer than that. He has a well-thought-out plan to go home and pass out, report to the Dean be damned.

There's something hedging in on that plan, however, in the form of two men he's never quite been too pleased to see, two men that both happen to be his brothers. Schneizel's smile is mocking as he tap-taps on the glass door, whilst Maximillion stands primly at his side, peering in.

_Wonderful. Just what I need._ He mouths 'come in' while privately vowing to kill himself before the end of the day, and his towheaded brothers enter quite differently - Schneizel in his always-asshole swagger, and Maximillion with his subtle I'm-more-successful-than-you walk. Since they have the same mother, both are tall and towheaded, with pale eyes and austere features, though Schneizel is more feminine, while the other exhibits a quiet, masculine strength. It is Max who speaks first. "Hello, Lelouch."

"Hello," Lelouch says, smiling, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He doesn't look at Schneizel. "How are you, Max?"

"I'm doing quite well, thank you. How has it been teaching here so far?" he looks round at the multitude of desks, unimpressed, but he still manages to act so. Maximillion has always been more respectful of others than Schneizel, though never quite warm.

"It's been an experience," Lelouch musters through his pinched little smile. "How's work for you?" His brother owns the single most successful advertising company in all of Britannia, so this question is mostly pointless.

Still, he gets an answer. "Quite slow, for me. I've been trying to start new projects that will keep me entertained."

"The point of the visit, Max," says Schneizel, his ice-blue eyes brimming with a cruel excitement. He rationalizes that Schneizel is up to something and that there must be something in it for Maximillion, who would not be present otherwise. The two aren't necessarily partners-in-crime but they're always more or less involved with one another's shenanigans (if they could be called that).

Maximillion says, "Oh, yes. Schneizel asked me to accompany him while he questions you about Nunnally… how is she?"

_Nunnally? _Lelouch's blood runs cold. _He can't be doing this again._ Because for a while, he and Schneizel were engrossed in a heated custody battle for their crippled sister, with Lelouch coming out the victor by the skin of his teeth, only because of a stroke of extreme luck while searching for a capable lawyer. Now he could not possibly acquire the same council - _don't over think things. Just answer the question._ _"_She's fine. I have a full-time teacher and nurse who attends to her."

"Excellent," says Maximillion; Schneizel seems peeved. "Are their accommodations for her disability?"

"I thought of requesting wheelchair ramps, but there are many elevators throughout the building." His heartbeat, fresh and hard, reminds him that the wrong words could be grounds for a civil suit against him, and the loss of his sister. He sweats. "She manages."

"You know, Lelouch," Maximillion says, "I wouldn't be against taking you in at the company. I could - take you under my wing, you could say. Of course your pay would be triple what it is here." And he confirms Lelouch's suspicions that he is here under the premise of gaining a new employee, in the form of the little brother he always thought of as brimming with potential. Serving as intimidation for Schneizel is only a small price to pay.

"I'm perfectly happy with what I make," Lelouch says a bit more saucily than he should've, but it does nothing to dissuade from the insistent gaze of both his older brothers. "Besides, I've only just started here."

"Satisfactory enough for you, enough to support Nunnally…. I commend you on a sterling choice of occupation, Lelouch," Schneizel simpers with a cold smile. "But the question remains – is my sister _happy?"_

_Our sister._ "Very. She loves living on campus; and she says she feels like she herself is in college." He thinks of his minimal conversations with Sayoko, these things the Japanese tutor had told him Nunnally had said - and he realizes just how little time he spends with his little sister, but that does not sway his desire to defend himself as a decent guardian.

"Ah," Max murmurs. "Well, may we see her? It really has been a while."

"She's in class with her tutor."

"May we have the tutor's name?" asks Schneizel without missing a beat.

"Sayoko Shinozaki."

Both of them are immediately transfixed. "An Eleven?" Schneizel asks, his voice dripping with disgust. "You're letting an _Eleven_ tutor our sister, princeling?"

_Princeling. _It's been years since he's heard that nickname – the children of Charles's well-liked wives often used it, as their mothers had done a good job of enforcing the idea that he and Nunnally weren't even fit to be called true royalty. "She is a well-qualified teacher who speaks perfect Britannian. I did extensive research on her job history."

Maximillion is impassive; thank heaven for the small favors. Lelouch can't handle a diatribe from _two_ racist brothers. Schneizel glowers. "I'm not very keen on it, regardless. Do you think it's a coincidence that Area 11 – "

"Japan."

_"—_Area 11's crime rate is three times the size that of our nation's?"

"I think that may mostly rebellions against uppity Britannian soldiers who think they have the right to shed the blood of the innocent."

"Let's not make this a racial debate," Max interjects, his gaze flicking between the two. Lelouch is much like Marianne, argumentative and for the most part looking to defend the underdog – in other words, quite fond of wasting good time and money. Schneizel is projecting his own beliefs on an unrelated topic, however, and this is just as inefficient. "We're here to discuss Nunnally."

"Actually, I think we're finished." Lelouch nods to his door. "Please leave."

"I can't obey yet, little brother. There are still questions we - _I_ have to ask you."

Lelouch exhales. "What is it, Schneizel?"

The blond thinks for a moment, looking to Maximillion for insight but getting nothing beyond a blank look. "Well, of course, we have to discuss her living conditions."

"She has her own bed and bathroom, and often stays with her tutor by choice. I tell her she's free to visit any libraries or buildings she'd like to as long as she's supervised."

"Can you not supervise her yourself?"

"I'm quite busy." As if that isn't obvious, considering the very room they're in; Schneizel has just always liked to irritate him for sport. "Otherwise I would be with her all the time." This is the truth; if he didn't spend all his time courting Suzaku, he would probably be at his sister's side (or more specifically, behind her wheelchair) for the vast majority of his days here at the University. He thinks again on how much trouble it took to bring her here, and how he's shirking all the responsibility the court _did_ bestow on him, not materially, but emotionally. He really should be more of a brother to her. It's just odd that a visit from his two least favorite siblings could spur such good intentions up from within.

After a moment, Maximillion finally moves, pushing his pale hair off his forehead and murmuring, "Schneizel, perhaps we really should be leaving. Lelouch _is_ busy, after all."

Lelouch gives him a cracked smile, his eyes slipping down to his closed grade book. "Yes, I… have averages to calculate."

Schneizel's disappointment is almost tangible in the air, but he doesn't make a scene; he was raised to be quietly angry, to wreak havoc from within. "I'll be seeing you someday soon, little princeling," he says with a wink that makes any cerebral function Lelouch is working on shatter into a million pieces. The blackette stares as his brothers waltz out the door, as calm and collected as they were when they arrived, whilst he is at his desk, shaken down to the bone.

Could he lose Nunnally to Schneizel? It's truly possible, what with the corporate power Maximillion wields and the diplomatic confidence they both exhibit so effortlessly - but it's also a lot to do with money, with legal representation, and Lelouch is more than adequate on that front. Still, they almost won the battle last time and he's not so sure he could come back quite so strongly…

His heartbeat is herky-jerky as he picks up his pencil to stow it in his briefcase, but it strains and eventually splinters in his grasp.

––—∞—––

Rivalz focuses his eyes on the poster opposite him, something to do with the Marine Corps. He can't really focus between the hot, muggy air coasting in from outside and the swipes of hushed voices he can hear from inside the cracked door of Professor Lamperouge's classroom. One coming upon him would accuse him of eavesdropping, but he was told to wait here by an enamored Suzaku, who is currently inside, most likely being sweet-talked.

Not that he doesn't like them as a couple, he's just been awake since three o'clock (this was a result of copious amounts of coffee from the previous day as well as his roommate's persistent phone-chattering to his girlfriend) and he's so _exhausted_ that he could hate even Romeo and Juliet for holding him up. Suzaku had told him that he had been awake all night as well, but that stupid grin had been on his face at the time, so it makes sense as to why he's so painfully _happy_ even in the throes of sleep deprivation.

He hears a soft chuckle, Professor Lamperouge's, and sighs. Suzaku is the same as ever, mostly, but conversation with him gets tedious after about three minutes, because he's usually angsting about something-or-other. Perhaps it's different with Professor Lamper - _Lelouch, if he's your best friend's boyfriend you call him by his first name - _because now it's evident Suzaku has made his choice, and he doesn't have that internal bleeding by the name of Euphemia Vandrein.

Finally, his best friend leaves the room, closing the door behind him and saying with an annoyingly affable face, "So, what do you want to do now?"

"I don't know. We were supposed to meet Shirley." _Which I already told you._ Irked, Rivalz feels the pressure in his head so strongly his eyes may cross if Suzaku forgets something else.

He cocks his head to the side. "At the crab shack?"

_Thank god for small favors. _"Yeah."

"Okay." Suzaku rakes a hand through his hair and starts his walk toward the west exit of the Saffron Building, a spring in his step that makes Rivalz want to amputate his legs. Still, the bluenette is distantly glad that his best friend is finally happy, or at least in a good mood, if only for a moment. He isn't hanging his head thinking about his girlfriend dumping him - but then again, has it really even hit him yet?

A girl in a wheelchair rounds the corner, a mute smile on her face. Suzaku seems to know her. "Nunnally?"

She seems momentarily confused. "Suzaku? Is that you?"

"Yes," he says, evidently happy to see her as he kneels to take her hand. Rivalz feels bad for the girl but he really just wants to get _out_of here, and wills Suzaku to make this chat a quick one. "What are you doing here? You have tutoring this morning."

"I was looking for my brother," she explains, her dark blond brow furrowing. "I couldn't figure out which classroom was his. He said it was somewhere in the 200s but the doors don't have Braille on them."

"I was just with him," Suzaku says, and she smiles in relief. Rivalz blinks. _Lelouch has a sister? Whoa, they look nothing alike._ "His classroom's right here." Suzaku, behind the girl's wheelchair, throws Rivalz an apologetic look before wheeling her in the opposite direction, opening the door and once again entering Lelouch's room. This time Rivalz follows - the raven-haired male is loading his materials into his briefcase, his jet-black hair stuck to his forehead as he moves about.

"Back again, are we," he says in a breath, huffing a hello to Rivalz before turning his gaze on his sister. "Nunnally! How did you get here?"

"Sayoko drove me. She wanted to wheel me in, but I figured I had better do it myself." She seems exhilarated to be in her brother's presence; Rivalz gets the distinct impression that she doesn't see him as much as she would like to.

But what's much more imposing is the way Lelouch seems to _glow_ when he sees her; a corporeal thing not unlike Rivalz sees on his face whenever Suzaku pipes up with a question during one of his lectures With Suzaku, though, it's much less winsome, more of a leer. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before I left this morning," says Lelouch, smiling wryly at his sister though she clearly can't see him. "I was in a bit of a hurry."

"I know you were. Suzaku said goodbye to me," she points out, sending a thankful look in the complete wrong direction, but it has the desired effect on Suzaku, who lights up. "He said you were too busy being OCD to make time for anyone but yourself."

"Are you sure you weren't talking to C.C.?" The professor shoots Suzaku a questioning look, and he merely shrugs in reply, as if to say, _can you blame me_? "Well, I'm sorry, Nunnally. We can go out to dinner tonight - you, me, _and_ the witch." He tuts uncomfortably at that last part, but at the excited look on his sister's face, dismay melts into a placid pond of relaxation.

"Sure!" she practically squeals, and something inside Rivalz weeps for the man who tries to elbow his way between these two siblings. They have that underlying air of having been through a lot, manifesting itself in a closeness that's almost like that of a married couple. He upsets her and makes up for it with dinner and a kind word. She resumes her daily routines blissfully, with the knowledge that her brother cares for her and only her, unaware that he's on a constant hunt for a piece of ass - _particularly, Suzaku's ass. _Rivalz snorts.

Perhaps he really does adore her as he seems to, though. He hasn't been around them long enough to make a solid judgment on that one.

Suzaku glances at his wrist, then looks away from it again upon finding - _yet again -_that he isn't wearing a watch. "What time were we supposed to meet Shirley?"

"Now," Rivalz says, with a careless gaze to the clock above Lelouch's large globe, "But she'll be late anyway. She always is." He sighs as a montage of Shirley's lateness plays through his head: Student Council meetings, birthday parties, school classes… she had been late to her own mother's wedding, because her dress had torn down the side, and she had run about shrieking like a madwoman. And that's only what he remembers from freshman year.

"Get going, then," Lelouch says, with a light wave. "Miss Fenette doesn't exactly seem like the kind of girl who would take well to you two standing her up."

"She definitely isn't," Rivalz agrees, waving back and leaving Suzaku in his wake. He could care less if the brunet follows him now, but to his surprise the bouncy footfalls are momentarily fast as Suzaku falls into step beside him. He waits until Lelouch is out of earshot before hissing, "Soareyoutwodating?"

Suzaku's small mouth purses. "Well, I wouldn't say we're dating. You're forgetting I'm not gay."

"Cut the shit."

"Fine, but I still wouldn't say we're dating. And I'm _- _I'm just_…_bi-curious," he flushes a bit, though it's obviously true he's much more than that. "Besides, I'm not even going to tell people that. We wouldn't want another _Jeremy_ mishap, would we?"

The bluenette rolls his eyes. "Not everyone is going to steal your boxers, Suzaku. It's college. People would be cool with it."

"I'm sure they would, if they asked me. I'm not going to announce it to everyone is all." Besides, Rivalz wouldn't understand. It's enough to be the resident Eleven on campus, let alone the _gay _Eleven. He's not ashamed of Lelouch or what being around him entails – it's just a safety measure for them both – besides, the older's job is in jeopardy.

The brunet is glad this conversation is over, because Rivalz has always subscribed to the school of thought that if you were gay, you had to be _flaming_ and everyone had to _know_ you were gay. There is no in-between to Rivalz.

Aerosmith frees his mind from the heresy of orientation-blather, if only for a few minutes, and his foot taps to the tune as Rivalz watches his GPS. This place Shirley picked out is conveniently at Pendragon's north edge, a particularly annoying part of town when it comes to traffic, and while he isn't surprised, he supposes a little part of him must've hoped she would have acquired sense upon starting college. How wrong he had been.

When they enter the restaurant, Shirley is seated outside, as promised. The air has that undeniable musk of seafood being cooked nearby.

"I've been here for an hour already. Where have you two been? With Lulu?"

"You guessed it," Rivalz says, sitting. "His sister's in a wheelchair, did you know that?"

Her dark-mint eyes expand with sympathy. "Oh, no, I didn't. Poor Lulu."

"She does pretty well, actually," Suzaku enlightens. "She gets tutored at Nester every morning." He inhales, his lungs inexplicably cold and empty despite the warmth of the restaurant. "Lelouch really should spend more time with her, though. She does get lonely."

"That's sad," Shirley says in her watered-down version of understanding. "Rivalz, should we split a steampot? They're huge, you know."

The young Kururugi lets his mind freewheel, convinced his friends have outdone themselves in the way of listening. He peruses his menu and decides to order crab cakes, a simple and inexpensive alternative to the blossoming fifty-dollar steampot they're planning to consume.

His phone buzzes impatiently, twice in a row.

**Suzaku, do you know who this is?**

_Can't say that I do._

The reply is almost instantaneous: **It's me, Lelouch. You gave me your number.** So he had. The less-than-rule-abiding Professor had harried him for some way of mobile contact, a move Suzaku had jumped onto like a baby bird demanding to be fed. He just figured the other wouldn't contact him quite so soon.

_Oh, hi._

"Hnngh," Rivalz gazes apprehensively at the menu. "I don't know, Shirley, this looks kind of-"

"Don't say expensive!" she whines. "I told you we were going to split the cost." A mixture of defiance and sadness festoons across her face, surprising Suzaku. He'd never thought Shirley had it in her to attempt manipulation. Regardless, it works, and Rivalz's scowl collapses.

"Fine," he says in a breath, "But you're covering the tax."

**I've got an idea. Remember that dinner I asked you about? It should be tomorrow.**

_Why?_

**Because I want to see you, and I can't think of any reason why not.**

_Okay._

And that's the end of that. Suzaku closes his phone and stows it in his pocket not because he doesn't want to talk to Lelouch, but because he knows he won't be able to pay any attention to his friends, who he's been neglecting anyway in favor of the raven-haired Literature bon vivant. "So how have your classes been?" he asks Shirley, since he talks to her the least.

She thinks for a moment. "Mmm, fine. I'm not sure if I should've taken Poly Sci or not. I mean, what am I going to use it for? I don't wanna be a lawyer or anything. Besides, the lecture hall in the Hackery Building is so _cramped!_ My gosh."

Through his peripheral vision, Suzaku exchanges a look with Rivalz. "I think you could be a good lawyer, Shirley."

Shirley's lips twist. "I don't want to spend my whole day arguing with other people over stuff that's not really my problem." With that, she swings her right leg up and crosses it over the other, closing the subject in a backwards way. "What about you, Rivalz? You don't ever study."

"I've got bigger things going on," he insists.

"Like?"

"Like, well, finding a girlfriend."

Suzaku resists the urge to roll his eyes, but then he remembers that Lelouch has been taking precedence over any academic hurdles _he_ could be jumping. "You could give Milly a call," he suggests, and Rivalz sulks over his menu. "Oh, come on, she doesn't hate you or anything."

"Rivalz is just worried it would be awkward," Shirley explains, and evidently this is accurate, because Rivalz continues to hang his head. "I say go for it! You only live once!"

"Mmmmr," Rivalz grumbles. "What about you? I don't see _you_ going after anyone."

She blinks. "W-well, I _did_ have a plan for Lulu, but Suzaku kind of got there first." She wears a mask of amusement and bitterness, nodding in the brunet's direction. He looks up.

"I wouldn't object to you going out with Lelouch," he lies blatantly, "It's not like I'm dating him or anything."

Blue eyebrows raise, "You're not?"

"No, did I say I was?"

"Yeah, but I assumed…" what with the way they were looking at each other early Rivalz could've sworn they'd been married ten years. "I just figured he was spoken for, is all. Go for it, then, Shirley." He winks at Suzaku as if to say _she has no chance,_ but Shirley doesn't seem to notice, just smiles demurely as she looks down at her menu. Suzaku knows she's really far too _shy_ to go after Lelouch (not to mention they're supposed to be best friends) but a tiny part of him dies at the sight of her self-assured moment.

Because, no matter what he says, he still has a little crush on Lelouch. Okay, maybe a big one. And who wouldn't? "What're you guys eating? Still thinking about that steampot?"

They nod in unison. "More bang for our buck," Rivalz elaborates, looking up with a smile as the waitress approaches. "Hi, how're you?"

After the worker-drone has taken their orders, she bustles off to the next table, and they're able to speak freely (not that they had anything _that_ scandalous to discuss in the first place). Suzaku fiddles with a loose thread on the knee of his jeans, his brow furrowed as he mulls over what he's going to _do_ tomorrow when he sees Lelouch, what will happen between them, because some new development hits without fail, each and every time, whether it be the intensity of their mid-lecture stares, or amount the slick rhetoric the older feeds him in his successful attempts at seduction.

Either he obliges his and Lelouch's wish, or the days roll on without any true excitement beyond a new author to dissect in Literature. For some reason, he feels that either choice would be a double-edged sword. He's backed himself into a corner.

A breeze drifts over the hodgepodge of tables, and the ice cubes in his water knock lightly against the glass, bringing him from his reverie. Rivalz and Shirley have lapsed into a conversation without him. Something having to do with the PRT system and whether or not it's an efficient means of travel. He sighs as he remembers his bicycle, which he really _should_ be saving money for.

He coasts in and out of several different emotional states, separation anxiety (Lelouch) and confusion (Rivalz and Shirley's conversation) being the most prominent. It's as if he's subconsciously detached himself from the scene around, without any idea of how to re-submerge his auburn head into the blissful chattering of college students.

Unsure of what to do, he toys with his straw, bending it between his index finger and thumb, a curl to his lower lip and a rivulet of sweat making its way down his forehead.

_It really is hot for September, isn't it?_

His plate is placed in front of him, reeking of crab and hunger-relief, and he digs into it voraciously, though he last ate sandwiches not even two hours ago with Lelouch, in his lecture hall. Their conversations have become wonderfully bleary now, possibly a result of the physical tension and Suzaku's near-constant catatonic brain function. He just doesn't get enough _sleep_ anymore. Not that he's complaining; it was certainly a drag to bicker with Lelouch, even for such a small amount of time - the square peg and the round hole, his mind supplies feebly - before they had become comfortable in one another's presence, at least a little bit.

After all, he's never truly comfortable with anyone, except perhaps his grandmother, whose mind is as gentle as a nun's and whose skin is as thin as paper.

Suzaku's philosophical jaunt ends when his stomach feels strained; he's overeaten in his haste. "Ungh," he says unintelligently, his eyes dropping to his knees.

"Well, welcome back to Earth," Rivalz says affably, smiling, "What happened to you, buddy?"

"Don't know," Suzaku says in a heavy voice. "I feel bloated."

"You were eating like a hoss," Shirley reminds him, gesturing to his plate with her fork. "Are you starving yourself or something? You're losing weight."

"At least he doesn't have to worry about the Freshman Fifteen," says the bluenette in what's meant to be a compliment but escapes with a tinge of jealousy. "All the weight goes to his ass anyway."

Suzaku shoots him a look, but he doesn't even see it, because Rivalz goes back to savagely ripping open his lobster tail with his teeth. Shirley eats more primly, using her fork to dig at the meat. Frankly, it all makes Suzaku a bit nauseous, and he gulps his water, hoping it will quell his foisting belly.

Shirley's phone rings, a cheerful pop tune.

"Hello?" she chirps. "Oh… Euphy?"

And he almost has to shit himself again. "Hang up," he says calmly, trying to convey the message with his eyes, "Shirley, hang up the phone."

"No, no, I didn't… no, I don't know where he is…" she nods to Suzaku, lips pursed, "I'll tell him you called, I will - oh?" She muffles the mouthpiece with her hand and hisses, "_She wants to bring you all of your things,"_ before donning that perfect happy face and continuing, "I'll tell him. He's probably sleeping. That's all he ever does."

Rivalz is looking at Suzaku with a look that says, _tough break man,_ and continuing to shove lobster meat in his mouth.

With the annoying cracking noise his teeth are making and the fact that that's Euphemia on the phone, as well as the fact that he might die of heat exhaustion, Suzaku is a walking time bomb.

Finally, _mercifully,_ the redhead flips her phone closed, giving Suzaku a sympathetic look before continuing to devour her meal. A relieved breath leaks from the brunet and he can relax now, at least a little bit. After all, he's here to spend time with his friends, not worry about the repercussions of his own choices.

After a while he falls into conversation with Rivalz and Shirley, and he's able to laugh again, as they journey down memory lane. He's back in the halls of Ashford Academy, with its black uniforms and gung-ho Student Council events - and Euphy.

Before they broke up, he could only look back on her fondly, but now the tiny cracks in their memories are expanding, growing more potent as his rosy-hued haze of love fades away. He's able to remember how she would grow upset with him for _looking_ at another girl, or forgetting to call her back, or pouting whenever he was in a conversation with someone else, because she just needed _that much attention_, though he dedicated most of his time to heaping it upon her anyway.

At the end of the line, he's discovered that while she would wear that gentle mask, she was nothing more than a pretty face and a few kind words, not to mention neediness that he put up with only because he _loved_ her, because he was so blinded by his own misconceptions.

Is the same thing happening with Lelouch?

True, Lelouch is much more open about things he likes and dislikes; but part of Suzaku can't help but wonder if beneath that dear neurotic Professor's surface there is something other than what he projects… or if there is nothing else. Are seductive words all Lelouch is good for? Is he only a connoisseur of fine things, and nothing more?

He ends that train of thought; after all, why should he care? He doesn't _know_ if he loves Lelouch, so speculation like this is, for the moment, pointless.

_I think too much,_ he muses.

––—∞—––

Suzaku's pants are tailored awkwardly.

It's not that they flare at the ankles or are baggy, or any other fabric faux pas that would most likely make Lelouch weep for the unfortunate souls that would _consider_ buying such things - no, Suzaku's pants are – they're really quite flattering. Specifically those back pockets, they accentuate certain, er, _ass-_spects (he snorts to himself at the pun) of the boy's lower body.

He shifts in his desk chair, forcing his eyes back down to the gradebook in which he's been penciling marks. He _does_ have a dinner date with Suzaku tonight, after all. Surely he can quit packing heat into his gonads at least until then, or at least his conscience insists he can.

Putting his pen down a bit too forcefully, Lelouch's violets flick back upward, and he bites his lip hard.

Now Suzaku is bent over picking up a paper for some homely girl in the front row.

He can't be the good person he so tirelessly projects himself as if he's going to do this to his professor, who is already dying in the heat, not to mention feeling a bit peaky because he'd skipped his lunch to catch up on filing. Suzaku laughs flutter-tenor about something Rivalz said and Lelouch's hand curls against the seam of his trousers. This is ludicrous, adolescent behavior, and he is indisputably above it.

_Miles_ above.

Is that why he opens his ludicrous, adolescent mouth and calls out:

_("Suzaku, may I have a word with you?")_

Then receives that sunny smile? "Sure." Lelouch thanks his lucky stars that Suzaku isn't walking backwards as he approaches him, his affable face flecked with confusion. "Yes?"

_How misguided. Calling him over here with nothing to say. _"I was just wondering… how you are."

After the initial splinter of confusion leaves him, Suzaku obliges, "Fine. I'm still a little upset. You know." He cracks a small smile and shrugs his shoulders. "…And how are you?"

Lelouch ignores the drop of sweat trickling down his forehead, coasting to the left. "I'm just a bit overheated."

"You _could _turn on the air conditioning," Suzaku suggests. "I'll do it if you want."

Lips twist. "No, I'm fine."

And an idea flickers into his head, and like clockwork, his fingers jut out to knock his pen to the ground, watching Suzaku's emeralds follow it with concern, and as he anticipated, the boy stoops down to pick it up, his firm ass straining the denim that Lelouch resents so strongly for hiding his prize. With a loafered foot, Lelouch _accidentally_ nudges the pen in the other direction, and Suzaku does a one-eighty, plucking it up and handing it back to him.

"There," he says in a voice that's clearly unaware of the searing gaze the other was just presenting to his bottom. Or, perhaps, not so unaware, because his eyes narrow and suddenly he looks incredulous. "Lelouch, uh. Are you – is there something the matter?"

"Of course not. I'm just stressed out." What a shitty excuse. Lelouch brushes hair off his forehead.

"Oh." A frown. "No sleep?"

"No, it's more complicated than that, I'd say."

"Mm, how?"

"I'm _fine._" The firmness in Lelouch's voice suggests the opposite and for this he curses himself.

After another moment of curious staring, Suzaku smiles sympathetically and turns to leave, rolling up his sleeves as he makes his way back to his classmates.

Lelouch raises his voice. "Suzaku, there's something else."

He looks over his shoulder. "What?"

"…I don't think it's appropriate to discuss out here. Perhaps my office?"

Graveness etches itself onto Suzaku's face. What is Lelouch so upset about? "Sure." He notices Lelouch just can't seem to get up fast enough, and he makes the one-eighty as to his office door as quickly as a soldier's rear march. Once the door is open, Suzaku looks around a bit, and notices the absence of Lelouch's work computer. "What's going on there?" he points to it.

"It crashed," Lelouch says vaguely, as if this is of no consequence to a college professor, who most certainly needs a computer to complete most of his tasks. "The school should be giving me a new one here in about a week." He's still got his back to Suzaku as he stands in front of the file cabinet, staring uncomfortably out the tiny window. "Suzaku, you and I have to have a conversation about your pants."

Disoriented, Suzaku replies, "My pants?" he asks the back of Lelouch's head, because as far as he knew, Pendragon didn't have a strict dress code or one at all, really. But then, he had a bagel for breakfast, with raspberry jam Rivalz's mom mailed him – but he hadn't managed to get any of it on his jeans, so this must not be an effect of Lelouch's nitpickiness. For once.

He watches the older for a little while longer – the way he drums his fingers against the brown metal of the file cabinet, and more specifically, the way he stands facing in the opposite direction. "They're a bit snug," the older says.

"I'm sorry?" Suzaku slips his upper lip over his lower, brow furrowed.

"I think you're missing my point." And there it is, that arrogant sharpness that Lelouch's voice has been missing since the beginning of the conversation. The fact that he's regained his valor should relieve Suzaku, but for a reason he's slowly beginning to realize it doesn't. "You shouldn't wear pants so tight. It may give people the wrong ideas about you or make them behave in a manner that is counter-productive."

"Counterproductive?" he tilts his head to the side, frowning, and then it finally sinks in. _Is he kidding me?_ "So I can't wear them because you're getting off on it?" auburn eyebrows shoot skyward and Lelouch glares at him in profile, his pale lips crinkled in that annoyed set they always take on when he's being confronted with the truth. "Is that true?"

"Well, we needn't be vulgar." At this point Lelouch finally turns and walks around the file cabinet, and Suzaku happens to notice that he has a rather sizeable erection. He blinks, and Lelouch unlocks the cabinet. Or tries to, at least. "Oh my. This won't do. Could you look in the desk for a key? I think I have the wrong set here."

"You have a boner," is all Suzaku says in response to that question.

"And my patience is wearing thin. The key, please." There's an almost feral gleam in Lelouch's eye, but it does more to annoy than frighten Suzaku. He rolls his eyes and moves around Lelouch to get to the desk – and it takes him a moment to open it, because the drawer sticks a little, and –

"You really can be gullible sometimes," says Lelouch's voice in his ear, and suddenly he's aware of the man pressed up against him – against his neck, his back, and most importantly his _ass _– then silently but wholeheartedly agrees as he feels soft laughter against the crook of his neck. "Aren't you going to push me off?" the older questions in a low voice, with a hint of a growl. Suzaku feels his breath come short, but he doesn't move.

Because, really. Has he given Lelouch what for in any way so far? For any of the things he's done? "I can't – we shouldn't do this." When he sees Lelouch's expression falter he amends, "in here."

"What do you mean by _this?"_

"Anything." Suzaku swallows and looks over his shoulder; his nose bonks lightly against Lelouch's and for a second he wants to laugh, but it doesn't happen. He just looks at him (confused, expectant.) "I didn't think you were such an exhibitionist."

"I closed the door, didn't I?"

After this response, Lelouch gets close enough to kiss him – and he does, just on the neck rather than the lips. Suzaku finds that he prefers it. "What about the class?"

Another kiss. Under his chin this time. Shiver. "They'll be fine. You know none of them are all that fond of me anyway." Lelouch's hands are in his hair now, gently stroking his head as if to soothe him – that's almost laughable – and Suzaku ducks out of his grasp, letting his head hang.

"Don't be that way, Suzaku… do you remember what I said a few days ago – when I told you that you couldn't have it both ways?"

"Vaguely." Though it's really quite clear, the way Lelouch's eyes narrowed and the way his own chest constricted. "Does that apply here?"

He hears a sound and registers it as Lelouch licking his lips, perhaps in thought. "What do you think?"

The third time Lelouch kissed him (in Suzaku's memory, anyway) it was really not so much Lelouch kissing him, as it was their mouths smearing against each other as Suzaku turned around. But it became more or less a kiss anyway, a kiss for the most part undermined by the feeling of the professor's erection poking against his thigh.

"I've wanted you for too long," Lelouch persists, and the feeling of his hot breath against his neck is more than enough reason for Suzaku's resolve to drop completely. He nods slowly, lips pursed. "I know it's not the best timing, but I won't make excuses for myself." He pushes himself harder against his thigh. "If it's okay, I want to do something about _this."_

"Have you ever asked me before?" is Suzaku's response – he'd originally intended it to come out sarcastic, but it was quite weak. "J-Just do what you're going to do. And fast. Before anyone outside gets ideas."

"I can't promise you anything, but I'll try to be. Fast." Lelouch's face is beautiful up close too, clear and without even a freckle.

This is Suzaku's last thought before the professor's lips land on his and the world turns to putty, a litany of tongues and for a moment, eye contact – a wink before the violets disappear and Lelouch kisses him harder, hungrily now, the tiny snatches of his voice with each breath hard and lingering.

It frightens him, it really does – that Lelouch wants him this much already, and that he himself is really still sort of up in the air about the entire thing. If he refuses Lelouch, changes his mind and walks away from him now, what will happen? Will he fail him, report him to Dean Carlan for some imaginary – _oh._

A moment ago he'd been ignoring the hands on his bottom with a forced sort of detachment, but now they are anything but forgettable, squeezing and rubbing his ass like this – he hisses into Lelouch's mouth, backing up against his touch, into the fingers kneading his cheeks. He'd never dreamed _that _part of his anatomy would ever respond so well, aching pleasantly, encouragingly and – even though admitting it it shaves off a layer of masculine pride – when Lelouch spreads him slightly under his jeans, rubs a finger along his crack, the friction feels _good. _Good enough that it's making him hard.

"Perfect," Lelouch says, and because his gaze had been somewhere in the vicinity of his collar up until now, Suzaku is surprised to see how red the other man's cheeks are. He's convinced he must look that way too, and feels humiliation join the group of emotions he's currently experiencing. "I bet you never thought you'd want to be touched back there. If it hasn't occurred to you yet, Suzaku, I can teach you so much more than how to write a poem."

"Don't talk anymore." Suzaku exhales, pushing his ass against Lelouch's hands again. More like grinding it this time, really. It's become a sick fascination for him, the way being touched by a man affects him. "I don't want to hear innuendo right now or – or anything else."

The other resumes his ministrations albeit a bit slower than last time, still keen on conversation. "In case you're forgetting, I'm supposed to benefit from this too." With a flick of his wrist, he slaps Suzaku's ass, and the boy's mouth drops open rather gracelessly, but nothing comes out – no reprimand or cuss word as he expected. Just a tiny gasp. Lelouch feels his cock twitch. "You really are full of surprises, Kururugi."

When Lelouch slapped him, Suzaku had jumped in surprise and that had resulted in them being pressed closer together – their noses touching, chests lined up, and most notably, their dicks flush against one another. Lelouch smiles, braces his hands on the edge of the desk, and thrusts once, twice, three times. Suzaku feels as if the wind is knocked out of him. "O-Oh," he says airlessly. "Dry humping?"

Lelouch presses the flat of his palm against Suzaku's crotch, thumb and index fingers moving upward to grasp the zipper of his jeans. His heart nearly jumps out of his chest, eyes large and frightened. "I'll make it good," Lelouch promises. "Trust me."

The zipper comes down but Lelouch makes no move to remove his boxers– their eyes meet again and Suzaku still can't breathe, saturated in anticipation as he watches the older unfasten his belt, drop it to the ground, and unzip himself with a shudder. He wears black briefs, and the outline of his cock is really quite clear, the fabric stained dark at the tip.

"Quit gawking and back up to the wall."

Suzaku can't do either one fast enough, his head spinning, trying to generalize _anything _going on here. In the end he concludes that he and Lelouch are alone together, both hard, and that he's _allowing _all of this, letting someone who is what most people would consider a stranger see him so vulnerable, and take advantage of that state.

This revelation would normally deter him, but now – now Lelouch is against him, talking in his ear:

("_Spread your legs.")_

and he's anything but put off when the older's hips start to move, moaning loudly within the first few thrusts. The friction is maddening, _so _good, and even though he doesn't know him very well at all and they don't even _like _each other all that much, Suzaku can't bring himself to feel anything negative for Lelouch when he's moving like _this._

The sight of it is getting him hot, too – the act itself and Lelouch's expression, so overwhelmed, pearly white skin shiny with sweat.

He won't admit it to him, but damn, he's beautiful, even in a situation like this during which Suzaku was always convinced people look their ugliest. He starts moving faster, harder and the otherworldly eyes squeeze shut. Suzaku can't focus on his appearance much longer, however, because –

"Ah – nngh!"

It's growing increasingly harder to think.

"I know you're scared," says Lelouch, his voice uncharacteristically shaky and rough, "But I can please you in ways you'd – in ways you'd never dream of."

Suzaku doesn't even have to think about it to know that's true. He starts moving, too, experimentally at first – because he's only ever moved against Euphy like this, and to put it quite plainly, she didn't have testicles for him to worry about. But Lelouch responds quite well. "Thatta boy," he almost sounds amused, grinding harder against Suzaku, and it's just so _hotfastgood _that for a second Suzaku worries he's going to come. "If you could see yourself right now – " Lelouch is breathing through his teeth, and he says no more.

"I – " Suzaku begins. "I – I-" and he doesn't get a chance to speak, either, because Lelouch has stopped grinding and is just kissing him now, or more plainly suckling his tongue, the sound wet and obscene. Lelouch smiles devilishly and sucks harder.

When the older pulls away, he says, "Consider that in impromptu lesson in symbolism. It was my subtle way of telling you something."

It doesn't take him long to figure it out. "L-Lelouch – you –"

"Yes." With that he drops to his knees, lifts Suzaku out through the opening in his boxers, and starts sucking. No teasing or anything. For a moment Suzaku's frozen, realizing that his Britannian Lit professor – his very _male _Britannian Lit professor - is on his knees, sucking his cock. Belatedly, Suzaku realizes his nipples are hard. "Ah – ah – Lelouch – "

(It's probably the hottest thing he's ever seen, Lelouch's cheeks hollowed like that, his lips stretched around the dick between them, and those _eyes –)_

"More. Please." The professor complies, scooting forward a bit. Suzaku's hands fly to grasp at his hair. "Oh _god_- " He's thrusting forward shallowly, panting, because this is so much better than any blowjob Euphy ever gave him; this is assured, experienced, and unlike Euphy, Lelouch is enjoying himself, moaning with Suzaku, head bobbing back and forth like his life depends on it.

Suzaku can't take it. His hips speed up and he's whining now, thighs shaking. "_Please-" _he thrusts forward a bit too far and, as expected, hears Lelouch gag a bit. "I'm sorry – I – _Christ—!" _he'd moved to pull back, but then Lelouch swallowed him. He jerks forward again, undaunted, and soon he's fucking that gorgeous face, (something Euphy would never let him do) feeling an orgasm start to build at last.

Then, without warning, Lelouch pulls his head back and Suzaku slides from his lips with a wet pop. "Promise me something, Suzaku."

Suzaku gulps up air, yearning just to bury himself to the hilt in that mouth once more. "What?"

Lelouch tilts his head to the side, a look in his eyes that serves to equally thrill and frighten Suzaku. "Promise me I can fuck you tonight."

And Suzaku just nods thoughtlessly, wanting to feel that tight throat around him again – and he gets his wish, Lelouch sinking over him and making everything else go up in smoke. He starts thrusting again, slowly and then with more speed, feeling a familiar and long-missed tightening sensation in his groin. Just a few more – ah – the noise of it is absolutely deafening – and he'll be there, he'll come… just…

It happens when he looks down, when he sees Lelouch, his underwear pulled down to make room for him to jack his long cock, the head visible with every stroke.

(_god)_

"Wait – I –" he pulls back, attempting to leave Lelouch's mouth entirely, but sometime before he can, their eyes meet and suddenly, suddenly, there is only this _feeling_, gripping him from the inside out, pressing everything into an infinitesimal, white-hot pinprick of sensation –

(_yes)_

He feels everything, and at the same time, nothing at all, the environment is gone, it's just him, forward forward forward, and then…

After a moment he's descending, back into Lelouch's office, back into coherence, this world strangely less irritating after such a powerful orgasm. He's never come so hard in his life.

It takes him a little while to catch his breath. He hadn't really even seen it coming, but just seeing Lelouch that way, so caught up in his own pleasure… it's the last thing he remembers before his eyes crushed closed.

Suzaku also happened to miss the part where Lelouch came; the older is tucking himself back into his underwear, shakily getting to his feet. Suzaku opens his mouth to say something, but the words turn to mush. He watches Lelouch use a tissue to wipe excess come off his lips – _mine, _he realizes, head spinning, and then he has come up with a word. "Sorry."

Lelouch breathes out as if in relief, but he's smiling. "You're certainly a vocal one, Suzaku."

His cheeks burn. "I couldn't – you're really good. By the way… thank you. Really." He rights himself and pulls his pants up from around his ankles; they're shaking. He's afraid, he really is, and nervous too. Did he really just get intimate with Lelouch? In his office, no less? With a growing horror, Suzaku transfers his gaze to the door – what if someone heard and ran to the Dean's office?

"Lelouch—"

"How do you say 'cute' in Japanese?"

"Kawaii," Suzaku says quickly. "Wh-What if someone heard us?"

Nonplussed, Lelouch assures him, "I can tell you with a fair amount of certainty that the desks are really too far away for the sound to have carried. Come, sit down. Let's talk."

That sounds better than Suzaku would like to admit, but he shakes his head. "Rivalz and Shirley don't know how to conjugate," he reiterates, "If they can't do that they won't be able to hit any of the more complex things. Why are we doing grammar again?"

"A refresher," explains the older, tipping open the small fridge under his desk and pulling out what looks like iced tea in a water bottle. "If you learn something once and forget about it, what's the point of learning it at all?"

"I guess there isn't one." Suzaku works to button his pants, his mind still reeling from the events that _can't_ have happened but _did,_ and why is he so glad about that? He can finally speak without hyper-ventilating now, and that confuses him, because he never got this way with Euphemia, where the exertion was twicefold. "But why are they doing lessons at all? Where's your lecture?"

"I suppose I just didn't have one in me." On his end, Lelouch hadn't exactly _planned_ this little tryst with Suzaku, but it had worked out in their favor regardless, so who was he to question it. "Some days even I need a break."

"I guess." Suzaku can't really conjure a sentence more complex than that.

Lelouch says something predictably soothing. "You can stay in here with me for the remainder of class, if you want. I like company."

"I know you do." Suzaku fights the urge to let his muscles die and just _sleep_; he can't, not with Lelouch in the room. The stuffy, now sex-reeking room that's suddenly become his favorite one on campus.

The professor takes a seat in the softer chair by the door, crossing his legs and gazing at Suzaku. "Where do you want to go and eat tonight?"

"Nn," Suzaku says discontentedly, his glazed eyes half-mast. "I don't know, Lelouch."

"I can decide for you," Lelouch reminds. "Do you want to go back to the Quarter?"

"I guess… not the same place, though."

"Of course not." The older smiles. "What you have to do this time, is order something expensive. I don't like watching you pretend to be humble."

"I _am_ humble," Suzaku says in his I-must-be-morally-adept voice, "I don't like people paying for me."

"And I'm going to ask you again: If someone wants to treat you, why won't you let them? And don't say you feel like you'll owe me something, what you just promised me is payback enough." His sooty lashes brush against his cheeks, "Besides, you are _not_ the poster child for being a good person. I should pin a scarlet letter on you, cheater."

It is as if a switch was flipped. Goodbye, post-orgasmic bonding.

"Are you saying _you're _a good person?" the brunet's head is cocked to the side only slightly, "You get what you want and you're still trying to make me guilty for what I did."

"I'm not." Lelouch's eyes open. "I'm very pleased what you did, to be honest. I was getting sick of watching you text her, run out of class early to go call her. I wanted to rip the phone out of your hand. But what interests me most is that you loved her, that you _still _love her, and you're still subjecting yourself to what fooling around with someone else is bound to do to you at this point."

"That's not even relevant anymore. Are you still jealous of her? You won. She lost."

"It's not about winning or losing." Lelouch drinks what Suzaku suspects is iced tea. "It's about pride."

"Everything is, with you." The Japanese youth wonders distantly how Lelouch can go from getting down on his knees to being the physical embodiment of masculine pride in a matter of minutes, but he must focus on the task at hand. "It's all about power."

He's not even looking at Lelouch, but the expression on his face is so predictable he doesn't have to be to know he's smirking. "Suzaku Kururugi, I think you've achieved step one of figuring me out."

"Do I win a prize?" Suzaku smiles dryly and fixes his eyes on the other, whose satisfaction at the day's turn of events so potent it could probably crumble mountains. "It's not hard to realize. All you do is make an image of yourself. In the end, what do you achieve?"

"Happiness."

"Really."

Lelouch falters for just a moment upon realizing the other's disbelief.

"Is it really so far-fetched that an affair can make me happy?"

"No, it's just upsetting. That you're that shallow."

A pregnant pause.

_Shallow, am I? You know nothing. I learned earlier that I could be losing my sister._ But the words that escape his mouth are entirely off from that train of thought, as if they were picked from a random list of phrases: "Would you want me any other way?"

Disconcerted, Suzaku stumbles, "I – that's –"

"So your answer is no? You'd rather I'd be heartless?"

It's like there are two of him; one full of brotherly love and concern for others, namely Nunnally, C.C. and his late mother (and himself), that works as hard as it can to provide for those he cares for - and the other side, a - a _shallow_ man, with no ambitions beyond what he'll be sticking his dick in next and what kind of name he'll make for himself. He expects the boy to stammer and stutter and try to disprove his proclamation of heartlessness.

But Suzaku says something uncharacteristically cold: "If I wanted someone with a heart, I'd still be with Euphemia." An image of her drives through his mind, and his eyes shoot down again, to his feet that are shaking as much as the rest of him.

Violet icicles jolt. Lelouch finds it strange that Suzaku can be such a good boy, prattle sweet words to his superiors and pick up pens they drop, act the hero even in the most menial situations, and then be this raw, this real. Perhaps a good sucking will do that to anyone. "You're more like me than I thought."

If the boy weren't so tired, he would most likely jump up out of that chair. He replies hoarsely with, "Don't say that. I don't want to be compared to -"

"Why? Do you have _faith_ in yourself, Suzaku? Don't you realize you're only human?"

"I do have faith," Suzaku replies. "I have faith in the fact that I'm a better person than you."

"Someone once said - I believe it was Friedrich Nietzsche - that faith is not wanting to know what is true." Lelouch's ethereal eyes are down at his cuff link, with which he's been toying for the past few moments.

Suzaku rolls his eyes. "You can't listen to pessimistic words like that."

"And sugar-coated lies are so much better? These Disney-conjured epithets of true love and dreams coming true?" C.C.'s words shoot through his head: _What's so appealing about a child?_" If you still subscribe to that school of thought…you've got a lot of growing up to do. The world cannot be changed by pretty words along."

"I'm not stupid, Lelouch. I know things don't work out. I'm just saying that doesn't mean you stop trying." Suzaku is worried Lelouch can hear his thumping heart, but he doesn't seem to; even in this intense conversation, the professor is more interested in a mundane cuff link. He isn't sure what possesses him to ask this question, but it makes more sense to him than anything he's ever asked him: "Have you ever even _been_ in love, Lelouch?"

Thin fingers stop their work on the cuff-link; Lelouch's face breaks away from its relaxed state, his onyx brow puckered as his brain falls short of any adroit remarks. "I don't believe in love," he replies finally, his voice three-fourths quieter than its usual volume.

"Don't you?" Suzaku's heard that before from many of his friends wronged by their lovers, but Lelouch doesn't seem to fit into that mold, to him.

"I don't. I see love the same as I see faith. A crutch." The word leaves his lips with the same black tone as the others, but it holds particular resonance with Suzaku.

"You're making it sound like some pill."

The older finally looks up, meeting Suzaku's eyes. "They're one in the same, aren't they? It cures depression, gives birth to literature, gives people hope. But 'love', like a pill, is only conditional. You can only use it for so long before you run out. You and Euphemia are a perfect example."

"How so?" To Suzaku, this feels like the talks he used to have in his court-required therapy after he'd killed his father; the shrink had dissected each and every thing he said and turned it inside out, convincing him that any sort of argument was futile. Lelouch is no shrink, but he's just a _genius_, and he's catching onto how Suzaku's mind works like a child takes to breastmilk. Does he do that with all of his romantic conquests?

"You were in love with her at the beginning. But I think you built up a tolerance, and after a while… she had absolutely no effect on you. You wanted something new. I think that's why you and I are sitting in this office, right now."

Suzaku rationalizes, "Are you saying the same thing'll happen with you? If this – if this keeps on?"

A strange feeling takes up residence in Lelouch's chest. _I don't think I'll give it a chance to._ "Who knows," he answers vaguely. They sit for a moment, staring at one another, Suzaku watching him and trying to figure him out – and Lelouch spiraling into a barrage of self-questioning.

After he sleeps with Suzaku tonight (should the younger make good on his promise), what will happen? Will he, as he said to Suzaku, build up that tolerance, and need a new fix?

Most likely. He's just wondering if Suzaku Kururugi will be different, somehow.

Probably not, but it's worth thinking about, stressing over, and questioning. Lelouch likes to do that, delude himself into thinking his own misanthropic conceptions about love will be disproven and everything will be a gold-plated love story from there on. He's done it countless times, substituting a new face in the slot, convincing himself of certain values and taking to certain types of beauty, only to destroy everything by his own doing.

It's cruel, but hard to unlearn.

––—∞—––


	7. in which lechery isn't so undefined

First off, I want to apologize for the wait. It wasn't anything I could really control. But you guys aren't suffering nearly as much as the fans of She's Like the Moon, my Bleach fanfiction, who have waited almost a year for their update, which will be somewhere in the very near future.

So, I have a new chapter for you. A good one, I think. There's a lot of stuff going on in my life right now, mostly me trying to find my way in dozens of school assignments, dealing with the rather unorthodox family situation I've been slotted into, and trying to find time around that for both my boyfriend and my writing, two things I love dearly. I actually wrote a good deal of this chapter in school (with the exception of the, errr, sexual parts, because while I'm all for writing my homoerotica on a shared server, I wasn't quite ready to take _that _leap).

Continuing. A lot of things happen this chapter – some of it has a lot of significance, and it's not the parts you'd expect ;D And that's all I'm going to say, about that. I killed myself in school as I'm sure I said before but I worked faster than usual to get this to you before Christmas Day.

Read and be merry!

_and possibly i like the thrill_

_of under me you quite so new_

–e.e. cummings

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Earlier today, Lelouch had been expecting a mutually rewarding evening with Suzaku, one they had planned extensively. One that would result in the wayward professor finally achieving his goal of bedding the boy he's been working on for what's beginning to feel like a lifetime.

He did not expect to be here, in this stall, rubbing Suzaku's back as he violently regurgitates the dinner they have just eaten. He did not expect the painful searing in his lower back (a result of aggravating the sciatica his doctor has been warning him about) coupled with the bludgeoning disappointment of being forced back to square one.

However, all of these things are happening, and as expected, the wronged Lelouch's aggravation simmers shallowly under his skin.

"Are you okay?" he asks, though it is a useless question, for Suzaku seems as if his intestines are going to blast through his teeth at any second.

The brunet responds with a guttural noise and an attempted shrug that comes out as a weak jump-of-shoulder. "I'm sorry," he says, sounding far less lightheaded than he looks, "I don't think I can - can't tonight." And with that, he collapsed over the toilet bowl, presenting Lelouch with the rancid rain on his parade.

The older closes his eyes in muted disgust. "I don't see why you should apologize. It's not under your control."

His lips twist as he realizes that he has only a queasy Suzaku and his own hand for gratification, neither of which seem too inviting (but in retrospect, it beats an evening of griping and whining about pizza sans C.C.).

Suzaku coughs softly and smears his hand across his sullied mouth. "I don't think I ate anything weird..."

Lelouch leans against the side of the stall, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "It doesn't matter. Are you finished?" he sounds a lot more impatient (callous) than he intended to.

Suzaku's nose crinkles as he looks over his shoulder. "If you were down here throwing up I'd help you!"

"I have no doubt that you would, but you and I are different. I'd like to go home now." His voice softens. "I'm sorry I'm being mean to you, I'm just..."

Suzaku gets to his feet, a little shakily. "Disappointed?"

"Yes." The scent of vomit is marring Lelouch's deceptive abilities. "I had wanted you to be able to keep your promise." He fishes into his pocket and finds the stick of spearmint gum he was keeping in anticipation of kissing - the other needs it more than he does, and accepts it gladly.

The Japanese teen chews thickly. "I'm sorry. I hope we can still have fun." Have fun, as if they are high school girlfriends whose quality time is eaten up by studies and boyfriends. Lelouch thinks fun doesn't even begin to cover what he would like to experience with Suzaku.

"I could take you home with me, you know."

He thinks of 31 Arbordale Dr, a large imitation-Tudor with a lot of space for activities - and unlike Nester, it isn't swarming with nosy RAs and other annoying people. He is content, most of the time, to take the ten-second trip down the hall to Suzaku's unit, but it cannot compare to the freedom of his own abode.

"Isn't your sister there?" Suzaku asks, blinking his large eyes.

"I don't mean home as in Nester, I mean home as in my house. In lower Pendragon."

"I didn't know you had a house." He drags his palm across his lips again.

"Of course I don't stay in it much during the school year. But I have to have somewhere to live during the summer months." He thinks idly of all of Nunnally's belongings, clothing mostly, that would do her well in their residence at the dormitory. He'll bring them to her if he can remember. "How about it? We won't have Gino nosing around."

Suzaku contemplates, his face still looking rather sickly. "I guess I can stay," he says, "it's not like Clovis will notice I'm gone."

The twines of happiness growing within him, Lelouch smiles. "Get up. It's thirty minutes down the road."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

In the car, Lelouch looks over to see that Suzaku has fallen asleep. Lightly disappointed, he doesn't go so far as to prod him awake - arguing with Suzaku while at the wheel of a car isn't on the list of things he hopes to experience before he turns forty.

The radio warbles quietly, an Aerosmith song - _you're so jaded, and I'm the one who jaded you_ - as he drives on toward home, a decision he is most proud of making. Though Suzaku may be a bit intestinally impaired tonight, he has high hopes that he'll be up to strenuous activity first thing in the morning, or sooner if Lelouch's lucky stars are feeling generous. It doesn't faze Lelouch how selfish his thoughts are, but then again it never really does.

He himself is as jaded as the subject of the song that is playing.

That song wakes Suzaku in a tentative flutter of green; he leans to his left and says, "How long was I asleep?"

Lelouch rounds off an estimate, "Fifteen minutes, maybe."

"Mm." Suzaku plucks open the buttons of his dark green suit jacket. "It's weird."

"What's that?"

"I felt so sick a little while ago, but now I feel okay."

"Perhaps you threw up everything bad."

"I think that's it." He hikes up his foot into the seat, snaking his arm around his knee. "Anyway, where do you live again?"

"I live in Lower Pendragon, near the Quarter."

"Why don't you live closer to the University?" Oddly spry, Suzaku has launched himself into asking that pleasurable onslaught of questions that excite Lelouch when they really shouldn't, as they are always painfully mundane.

Lelouch takes a left. "I didn't get the job until quite recently."

"So how long have you been living at that house?"

"Since my junior year of college."

"Before you got your PhD?"

"Yes."

As if that's not obvious. Lelouch enjoys the attention Suzaku is heaping upon him, his forest eyes endlessly genuine in their curiosity. Still, Suzaku's obliviousness and aversion to using the common sense he so candidly uses in other situations disconcerts him. "It took me ten years to get my PhD. You have to be disciplined to stay in school that long." Though he himself merely excelled in his PhD program thanks to genius-level smarts, and no degree of discipline. He'd knocked out his dissertation in record time, and defended it with ease, though he'd known almost nothing about the issue he was supposed to be an expert on.

Suzaku looks at him with disinterest for the first time in what seems like forever. "I don't think I'm cut out for that much schoolwork. If all else failed I'd probably just join the army."

"Why would you join a force that hates your people?"

Undaunted, Suzaku shrugs. "Maybe I could help them change their minds."

"From the inside? It would be far more effective - and rewarding - to start a rebellion." Lelouch has never been a big fan of the tyrannical ways of the Brittanian royal family - one he'd successfully separated from some years ago, with the exception of Schneizel, who served as legal guardian to himself and Nunnally until he completed high school.

It is by no means a secret - in fact, he's surprised none of his employers have made the connection yet, what with the tremendous amount of media attention the royal family received in his childhood.

He thinks maybe Suzaku can sympathize, understand a bit - after all, he is the son of Genbu Kururugi, who was a man who made standing decisions rather than acting as a mere figurehead like a sufficient amount of the royal family. Suzaku can also understand the pain of losing a parent, though the older isn't quite sure about the nature of the late Kururugi's demise, as no one really is.

Still, despite the reasons why Suzaku may harmonize emotionally with him, he cannot quite bring himself to broach the subject.

"You would say that, wouldn't you?" Suzaku closes his eyes again. "I guess it's not a surprise. You are pretty theatrical."

"Men of my persuasion tend to be," Lelouch reminds, with a playful leer. "You, on the other hand… what are you again?"

Suzaku socks his shoulder with a mock-punch, "You said yourself that I'm bisexual. That sounds pretty accurate."

Lelouch blinks in surprise. He had not been expecting Suzaku to give a concrete answer, let alone bring light to his homosexual tendencies (as if they weren't obvious). "How do you figure that?"

"I like men and I like women," Suzaku says, re-introducing Lelouch to the concept.

"Which do you like more?"

Suzaku thinks it over. "I guess it would depend on whichever I was with at the time." He turns the dial of the radio, effectively drowning any questions Lelouch may have been fixing to ask. While Suzaku is a big fan of inquiries, he isn't that partial to them going both ways. The lyrics have gained volume. _There ain't no baby please when I'm shooting the breeze with her, and everything you see is a blur, when ecstasy is what you prefer…_

Lelouch smiles faintly at his lover's fickle behavior; he likes seeing Suzaku sway from his usual consistency in moments of awkwardness. Because Lelouch has always been a bit sadistic, no matter how much time he spends with Suzaku, the proverbial golden child.

At last, the dark Tudor-style house comes into view, the hedges surrounding it a tad overgrown, and the begonias Nunnally had tirelessly worked on for weeks have died, brown and sagging in their beds.

Lelouch makes a mental note to hire a gardener as he moves to pull the keys from the ignition, before having his arm grabbed. Disoriented, he looks over at Suzaku, only able to see his devilish face for a half a second before he lands awkwardly into the junction between driver's and passenger seats, his lips consumed by the hard press of Suzaku's as a pair of hands slide through his hair.

Surprisingly, the gum outperformed itself - Suzaku's mouth tastes deliciously minty, atop that usual hardy spice that flavors his tongue and cheeks. As they rub tongues, Lelouch ponders Suzaku's exact _motive _for initiating a make-out session while the car is still very much running, the radio playing on full-blast a song he can't even compute.

Still, he isn't complaining - a pleasurable heat is twining itself to his nerves, melting his compulsive joneses and swaying him to respond rather forcefully, his hands clawing the back of Suzaku's suit jacket as they writhe.

Somewhere in the midst of all this, a hand snakes itself between their tempered bodies and strokes firmly at Lelouch's crotch, palming him through the thick fabric of his slacks. Despite the stirring hardness that buds there, Lelouch's rational mind takes a vote and pushes him away from Suzaku.

"Inside," he wheezes breathlessly, floored by his voice's affirmation of breathlessness so very _early _in the game. Somehow, his left arm rips the keys from the ignition and the radio stops immediately, leaving them in a silence punctuated only by their heavy, heated breaths and the distant noises of insects. Suzaku dips his way out of the car and Lelouch follows him wordlessly, a bit heady and even lost as he unlocks his front door.

He does not take the time to scout his house for more dying plants – no, he merely throws his arms around Suzaku and allows the younger to crush him against the wall, sucking harshly on his lips and skimming down his chest with his hands, ignoring his shirt entirely and busying himself with the jangling belt Lelouch struggled to locate this morning. Yet again, the older dents the reverie with this time a word that Suzaku has always hated: "Stop."

"Mhmhm?" Suzaku asks almost inaudibly, taking the sweaty hand that Lelouch offers and following him helplessly, up a miserably long flight of stairs and down a skinny hallway, into what is presumably the older's bedroom.

Lelouch clomps himself unceremoniously onto the bed, undoing his belt and sending an expectant look Suzaku's way. The boy nods and pulls his pants down to his kneecaps, deeming that far enough before making quick work of the boxers.

He breathes reverently; lately he's been taking a liking to the male form, but somehow he knows that Lelouch is especially beautiful. All of that, and the way Lelouch is looking at him, his eyes somehow still as sharp and unforgiving as they always are even through the haze of arousal that he's shamelessly emoting. In everything he does, it's as if he's challenging Suzaku, and this moment is no exception – and in that, only Lelouch could drive Suzaku to such mental theatrics by merely bearing his genitals.

_"_Go on," Lelouch says in a low, heavy voice, fully aware of Suzaku's insecurities when it comes to performing sex acts on him. "I won't judge you," he promises.

It seems those four words have sealed the deal; the younger licks tentatively around the leaking head, maintaining smoldering eye contact with Lelouch as he does so. He watches Lelouch's eyes open wide, then slip down as his lips part delicately. Feeling bold, Suzaku suctions off the head, filling the room with a coupling of obscene popping noises and Lelouch's breaths (and through those releases of oxygen he seems amused; even as arousal slicks up his spine and bends in his belly, he is not immune to the absolutely ridiculous circumstances of this moment, nor to the devotion in Suzaku's eyes).

That mirth only multiplies as Suzaku sinks down further along his prick, unable to take all of it into his mouth, but sucking _mercilessly _hard and spurring the soft juts of Lelouch's hips. As the boy's head bobs, Lelouch strokes his head, as if praising a dog for using the newspaper rather than the carpet. Suzaku does not mind this treatment; two of his fingers move to knead at the plump balls beneath his chin, at the soft underside of Lelouch's cock; and the older finally makes a noise, an appreciative moan accompanied by a rather hard jerk of his hips.

As Suzaku continues, Lelouch keens. A bounding heat crawls through him and twists to his gut; he taps lightly on Suzaku's head and the other lets him slide from his mouth. With Suzaku away, Lelouch wastes no time taking his cock in hand (because his favorite student just wasn't going _fast _enough, _hard _enough) and pumping himself at an ungodly pace, looking at Suzaku through lidded violets. The younger doesn't take long to become no less than a wreck; his nipples have hardened underneath his dress shirt, and his look plainly states he'd like the same treatment. Lelouch is maintaining eye contact with him, his smirking mouth opening at the onset of his guttural declarations of pleasure as his hips shoot up into his long fingers, rolling the forehead over the head, _pulverizing _the shaft -

The sight manifests itself in a tumbling tidal wave that shoves itself herky-jerky through the length of Suzaku's body, coiling in his stomach and stirring further his erection.

"Suzaku, do you want me?" murmurs the professor, squeezing himself with a bit more force than necessary. Suzaku's face has turned a lovely shade of red and his pants look like they will literally rip at the front with little coercion. He doesn't seem cerebral enough to comprise a phrase, but the surprising answer comes through his lips in a honey drizzle:

"I do," he says in a breath, slinking closer to Lelouch. They kiss with little focus, hardly even touching lips but merely knocking tongues, Suzaku grinding his clothed cock against Lelouch's. They are like this for a while, prising more and more from each other in the blinding desire for _more friction_, though it seems they've already transcended what is humanly possible. The Japanese youth breathes a delighted sigh as Lelouch pulls his zipper down, freeing his arousal.

"You went commando," Lelouch notes breathlessly, tugging Suzaku's reddening erection and feeling it twitch between his fingers. Suzaku sways his head forward in a lazy nod, drool festooning round the corners of his _polite _little mouth, bruised from kissing and swollen from the blowjob he's just given. The older jaunts forward and pushes Suzaku onto his back, sucking and laving at his neck with that _eloquent tongue. _"Why is that?"

"W-well," he whines as Lelouch smears his thumb over the head with such force it almost _hurts, _"I-I thought… that…"

"Never mind now," he replies in a dark, heavy voice, gesturing for Suzaku to trade places with him, and the older reclines, lying on his back. Unsure of what to do, Suzaku looks sidelong at him through concerned eyes. "In my dresser, to your right."

Suzaku fumbles, leaning over to pull open the drawer and unearths a bottle of lube, his lips twisting. He's not quite sure of what to do with _this _particular substance, but Lelouch takes it from him, squirting a liberal amount onto his palm and slicking his cock.

The younger's stomach flips; this is really going to happen, is it? They lock eyes for a moment and Lelouch nods, his excitement growing as he watches Suzaku unsteadily straddle his hips, hesitating slightly before taking hold of his cock and sliding down, about halfway down the shaft – and that is where the rational part of Lelouch's mind stops working, because the other is so _fucking _tight and the print of him is blurring, it's just been so long –

_It hurts, _it really does; how do people do this, he wonders. He's sure he must look like a fool; face screwed up in pain as he slides up and down slowly, pathetically, trying to accommodate himself but only succeeding in looking awkward. When his eyes flick down for just a moment, though, he sees unadulterated (_adoration?) _in Lelouch's eyes, something that makes him feel like much less of a failure.

It isn't adoration, exactly, but close: admiration. Admiration for that fucking prize of a body, the tight, muscled chest, toned arms, and thick thighs, between which disappears and reappears his swollen cock, being _sucked in _by that _unfair _tightness; and that, coupled with the emotional zenith he's reached at the sight before him, licks solidly his nerves and sullies his ever-working mind, shoving his breaths out in cut-off groans.

But it's clear Suzaku is in pain; he's bit through his lip and his breaths are flustered as he slows down a bit, bracing himself on his hands as he pants, looking desperately at Lelouch.

_Bless him. _He slides his hands onto Suzaku's hips, aiding the boy with a thrust upward. They establish a slow rhythm, Suzaku's erratic breaths and the thwacks of skin against skin its soundtrack. Pleasure clings to the pain, barely even there but serving as his incentive to keep going. After a little while he's grinding himself down on Lelouch, and it's finally – it's _finally – _

Lelouch moans roughly as Suzaku finally starts to cooperate, his head tossed back as his movements become restless. It's truly a remarkable sight - precum dripping down Suzaku's cock, a bit of it slicking on his stomach. "_Ah," _he says, a dreamy smile coasting across his red face, "_Ngh_…" the boy licks his lips as he rides, the cleft of his ass hitting Lelouch's thighs. The older starts to thrust up with him, taking hold on his hips and guiding him up and down. His belly spools faintly at Suzaku's murmured _more_ and _yes_, and he rocks harder, spurring Suzaku to start mewling, saying slurry things in Japanese and simply letting go; he feels quite pleased that he's the one to see him do it.

Suzaku looks down at Lelouch, his eyes pinched shut and his lips parted; and his own heart flutters. The expression on that face is because of him.

Lelouch drives upward, thinking another angle may help speed things along, and he is right. Almost instantly Suzaku goes rigid, as if frozen, then he voices his appreciation with a lovely moan. Lelouch knocks repeatedly against that spot and the boy is writhing, placing his hands on Lelouch's clothed chest and fucking him as hard as he can, _dying _to feel that foisting pressure in his belly, one he can feel approaching – just a few more times…

"I'm going to—" he breathes, thrusting himself down on Lelouch's cock with such force the older cries out in a very un-Lelouchlike way. He looks to him but he doesn't seem to be in pain, so he repeats that harsh motion.

"Go ahead then," Lelouch breathes, and the boy does, at last relaxing his hips as he shoots his release – one round, another, and then he is done. He himself continues to thrust into the body that's quite literally squeezing the orgasm out of him, and it is roughly fifteen seconds before he follows suit, pulling his softening cock out of Suzaku and feeling the assault of the air as he slips pleasurably into the abyss. Suzaku's chest heaves as he comes down, trails of his orgasm slithering down his spine. This will hurt tomorrow, and he knows it; but he feels blissfully suffocated now, and no thought can crack the pristine glass that is his mood.

They lie entwined for a short while, not in any way romantically; Suzaku's face is buried in a pillow, and Lelouch is facing the eastern wall. It's finally happened, and that realization bounds strong through Lelouch's veins, the broken record of _wanting _it finally snapped in half and replaced by satisfaction. It happened a bit faster than Lelouch would have hoped; but after all it _has _been a long time, and he has to be human sometimes. "Does it hurt much?" he asks not out of any real concern but simply desiring to break the uncomfortable silence.

"I'll get over it," Suzaku says almost inaudibly, face still pressed against the down pillow. Lelouch watches him, disconcerted by this peculiar behavior. Then the boy's head swivels and he's looking at him, blankly at first then cracking a tiny smile with his sex-swollen lips. He edges to the floor, wincing slightly as pain shoots up his spine, cum dripping down his legs as he reaches for his discarded pants.

"No, don't," Lelouch says, slinking over to his dresser to pull out a pair of pants that are a bit big on him, but will probably fit Suzaku. He watches as the boy steps into them gingerly, his face contorted as he does so, feeling guilt spire through him. Nevertheless, it was what he wanted, and he'll reap what he sows.

They lay together again, Suzaku again in a perpetual Eskimo-kiss with the pillow and Lelouch staring at the ceiling. He's never been particularly affectionate post-sex but somehow he'd figured Suzaku would be, what with that clingy nature of his. Against the pillow he remains, breathing softly, sleeping before long and leaving Lelouch in a mixed state of bliss and confusion. Perhaps Suzaku was just too exhausted for cuddling (which Lelouch is slowly growing partial to) or talk, which would most likely turn into banter.

The ex-prince turns his still-flushed face the other way, his eyes almost luminous in the dim navy light as he thinks on their relationship thus far—the initial misunderstanding to the tutoring session, followed by the library trip… in his exhaustion all of these occasions have run together, and he isn't sure who said what when and why he didn't say this or that. Endorphins have left his mind buzzing and delirious, and he isn't about to try and change it.

He realizes he's still naked from the waist down and pulls on his pants, which had been hanging over the side of the bed. He makes an attempt to bring the sleeping Suzaku closer to him but the younger is heavier than he expected, so he merely slings an arm over him and closes his eyes.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Suzaku's waking process is a complicated one - first Lelouch nudges him at eight, saying something about how he has to throw the sheets in the laundry, effectively relocating him to the loveseat. Next, something's ringing - Lelouch's cell phone and then the older is moving around, doing something.

Eventually he fully wakes, around ten, his bottle-green eyes flooded by the sight of Lelouch donning a suit, frisking a comb though his hair and walking about in a general rush. With a jolt he remembers it's Monday, and Lelouch has a class in two hours - his own. With a speed that only lateness can initialize, he shoots up off the loveseat and hurries into what he presumes is a bathroom, not even hearing the soft 'good morning' Lelouch murmurs.

As he walks into the bathroom, pain shoots up through his entire being. And it only gets worse. This time his entire neck is covered in blooming love bites, one even so high as the bottom of his chin, making him look like a character out of a chintzy romance novel. He groans audibly and a figure slinks into the mirror behind him. "Why d'you think I'm wearing a turtleneck?" the older laughs softly.

Looking at Lelouch, smiling with that knowing and new warmth in his eyes, it fully hits Suzaku - oh god, it really happened. That corporeal affection roils from the professor in waves, and it echoes in the way he stands against Suzaku, his neck angled to his face, that overwhelmingly lascivicious gaze dusting a heavy pink over Suzaku's cheeks. His petal-like lips glide over the marks he left on the boy's neck, over the curve of his chin, up to his lips where they touch softly.

Suzaku's stomach hurts; he isn't sure why, but he's certain it has to do with Lelouch. "Can we talk about this?"

Confusion spiderwebs across his features, "Sure. Give me a minute." He leaves the bathroom for a moment, his dress shoes thudding faintly on the tile, and returns with his briefcase and car keys. "Now, what is it?"

Suzaku has mixed feelings about Lelouch's eyes - they are inviting but somehow cold, faintly ominous in their invitation. "Last night, I... I don't know if I... mmfh."

"Are you saying you felt pressured?" asks the professor, in that laissez-faire manner even as they discuss something so intimate. "In case you've forgotten, Suzaku, you started it." It sounds almost childish, you started it, but it is the truth.

The Japanese's brow crunches; he stares at his feet. "I'm just... I'm not sure I wanted it to happen that way." He follows Lelouch, who is walking quickly down the stairs (he notes how beautifully the house is decorated; it's a shame the blackette doesn't live here full time). "I was caught up in the moment." He winces as a particularly strong ache foists up his body and wonders how he summed up the idea to bottom; after all, isn't Lelouch the one with the destitute physicality?

He supposes he humored him, maybe.

Notes of hurt color Lelouch's voice. "Did you not enjoy yourself, Suzaku?"

Suzaku's face softens. "I did, but I... under different circumstances I would've... I don't even know what I'm saying." He shoves a hand through his hair as if to emphasize his point. Then it comes back to him in a rush, Lelouch shaking and talking in his sleep, and he wonders if the older remembers it too, how he woke up to his nightmare and held him, eventually coaxing him back to sleep. He probably doesn't, having been pretty bent out of shape.

Lelouch presses his lips together; leave it to Suzaku to ruin it with his feelings. "I'm sorry you felt that way. I would have stopped if you'd told me to. Please, wait downstairs. I have to get some papers in order."

This time around, Suzaku actually pays attention to the décor of Lelouch's house (much of it white and uniform, but his own personal touches are visible here and there; such as a vase of purple flowers on an otherwise desolate white table). The older has retreated to the upstairs for a shower and then to begin the work he's been complaining about never being done, so the younger figures he should probably stay on the first floor.

It's fine with him. Everywhere he looks he finds something interesting—a wall covered in Lelouch's degrees (Bachelor's, Associate's, Master's, and Doctor of Philosophy) as well as numerous certificates for prestigious looking writing contests. He feels a rush of inferiority when met with these sights, but he often forgets that Lelouch is thirty years old while he is merely nineteen, either because he acts like he's older or Lelouch adapts to his mindset.

Moving along, he finds a picture of a younger Lelouch, probably around the same age as Suzaku is now, arms around a sprightly C.C. with ponytailed hair. He wonders vaguely if they were dating at that point—and he was probably right, if the enraptured look on C.C.'s face was any indication. Next to that was a childhood picture of Nunnally, who somehow looks the same. Next to a lamp sits a bespectacled Lelouch, (smiling a more pronounced version of the demure leer he knows well) in a suit and tie in front of a high school logo, most likely a senior picture. (Doing mental math, Suzaku realized that he would have been about six years old at the time, taking kendo and learning to fish at the Kururugi Shrine. At that point, Lelouch had already been in relationships and done his schooling, and most likely had sex, while he had only been out of diapers for a few years.)

The last photograph he encounters is that of a striking woman with sleek black hair and limpid bluish eyes, dressed fancily and photographed in very comfortable surroundings. There was an air of formality to her, a certain prestige he knew to associate with government officials and royalty. However, what struck him most was that her features so strongly resembled Lelouch's, from her thin eyes to her marionette-like lips. She must have been the mother he lost so long ago, the one on whose death he never really elaborates. This makes him wonder whatever happened to Lelouch's father, anyway. He's fathered many children, but that's the extent of his knowledge.

He doesn't even hear Lelouch approach him, but the aroma (vanilla, rosewood, and soap) betrays his presence. "My mother," he explains. "They called her Marianne the Flash."

"The Flash?"

"Are you familiar with Knightmare Frames?"

Suzaku shrugs; he's heard of them before, but wouldn't know the first thing about flying one. "They're Brittanian war machines, right?"

"My mother was a famous Knightmare pilot. She was the first person to pilot the Ganymede."

"I wouldn't know that from Adam," Suzaku confesses with a weak smile. "She sounds amazing, though. You look a lot alike."

"Nunnally has her eyes," Lelouch says. "You seem… upset," he remarks. "Do you want to talk…?"

Suzaku stares at him as they walk outside. There is so much more he'd like to say to Lelouch, like always, describe to him exactly what he loved about it (which was mostly everything) and express his bludgeoning desire to do it again. He isn't even sure how those feelings of regret cropped up within him; he dismisses them without another thought. "What are we going to do tonight?"

The older opens the car door, putting his briefcase in first before sitting himself. "I don't know. Whatever you think we should do." He gives Suzaku a look that can only be described as _awkward - _a particular emotion the younger never expected to see on his lover's face. Their gazes grow into monotony and Suzaku simply watches him for a little while as he sits, one hand propped on the steering wheel and the other on his right leg. "I take it you… don't think anything?"

Suzaku rounds the car, getting in. "It's not that. I'm still a little surprised we went that far."

"So am I." Lelouch's voice is uncharacteristically soft as he coasts down the street; Suzaku watches huge houses fly by and thinks vaguely of his grandmother's manor – and if hiring that live-in nurse to assist her was such a good idea. After all, she's a tough old woman, and he smiles wistfully as he remembers her scolding anyone who tried to help her with anything. She is the only one in the Kururugi family that forgives him.

Lelouch breaks the reverie. "I should probably go and see Nunnally before class, at least for a few minutes." He's been much less involved with his sister lately, despite desperately pleading his case to Schneizel and Max, and it feels a bit like personal failure. "You can come with me, if you want." Nunnally likes Suzaku, and mentions him often.

"I have some work to catch up on," the brunet says in all honesty, his mind on the rather hefty folder full of assignments he hasn't laid a finger on yet. "Otherwise I would. You should spend some quality time with her." Lelouch is more like Nunnally's father than her brother anyway; he has that overprotective streak that usually only rears its head when it comes to her. "And C.C."

Violet eyes roll. "Don't be stupid." He starts the radio, "She can go back to her apartment for a little while, and it isn't like she's homeless."

"Ever think she just wants to be close to you?"

"To my wallet, yes. To me, no." _And the man in the back said everyone attack, and it turned into a ballroom blitz~ _"One thing you have to understand about C.C. is that she really is quite shallow. She stays with me because we have history, and she knows I can't find it in me to throw her out. If Euphemia stayed with you –"

"I get it," Suzaku cuts across with some degree of hostility. Lelouch gives him a sideways look of questioning and he looks away, focusing on the deodar trees going past his window in a rush of green.

Lelouch turns. Suzaku is obviously still hung up on 'Euphy' and while he doesn't hold any _real _emotional baggage when it comes to the boy (or anyone, really, other than Nunnally) a tiny inkling of _envy _sits high in his ribcage. _She dumped you. Get over it. _However, he says, "I understand how you feel… sometimes it takes a while to get over things."

"Oh, shut up, Lelouch. I can totally tell you're jealous." Suzaku rolls his eyes and lets down the window, the air sending his hair awhirl. "You're such a phony."

_Phony. _The word gnaws at his intestines; and he can't decide if that's because it's true, or because Suzaku is the first person to know him well enough to call him for what he is. "Fine. I never liked that girlfriend of yours. I thought she was bland and childish."

Hurt rips across Suzaku's face, quickly replaced by anger. "You didn't even know her!"

"I knew enough," he replies coolly, "To know that she wasn't right for you."

"And _you _didn't help the process along!" Suzaku nearly punches the volume button, throwing the car into a cold silence. _At least_ I_ can actually love someone, _he thinks of saying, but holds his tongue. Lelouch doesn't typically throw venomous remarks at him but he's smart enough to say something doubly hurtful; besides, no matter how _ridiculous _he's feeling it really isn't in Suzaku's nature to intentionally hurt another person.

Lelouch gives him another sideways glance, this one disgustingly expectant and annoyingly playful. "Now, now. What's done is done." With that, he turns the music back on and watches Suzaku seethe through his peripheral vision; a distant part of him feels ashamed for angering him, but it is overshadowed by that blistering dominance that colors his every move. He wants with a passion to supersede Euphemia in Suzaku's affection-rankings – to be his every waking thought and irresistible vice.

Because Lelouch wants with blinding fervor one simple yet seemingly unattainable thing: to be loved.

When they reach the campus, Suzaku is no less broiling than he was fifteen miles back. Every nerve ending in his body seems stretched taut; Lelouch would liken him to a wax statue if he hadn't opened his mouth to speak. "I'll see you later."

"When?"

"Just later, okay?" he shuts the car door with a bit more force than necessary; and considering his strength, that's harder than one would think. He rounds the car and reaches Lelouch, who is standing pretty in his jacket, tie, and briefcase as expressionless as could be. His face softens as a reflex. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

Lelouch looks down, then back up. "To be fair, I wasn't exactly being nice."

While trying to grapple with the complicated spew of emotions he's feeling, the brunet softens up and allows himself to forget Lelouch's jabs against Euphemia – maybe he did overreact, and in a moment of weakness lash out at him (because Suzaku, gentle soul that he is, considers his one harsh statement lashing out). He himself had lamented Euphy, talked badly about her to Lelouch, and then expected him to show her mercy. It made no sense at all, like most of the things at this point in his life.

Suzaku exhales through his nose. "I just – I need a little time today. There's so much going on." He realizes Lelouch is less than an inch away, his violet eyes emoting something nameless. Despite his sour words and his formless manipulation, he is still a remarkable sight, from his sharp lips to the jetty eyebrows and condescending beauty. Perhaps this is why Suzaku kisses him, tentative lips met with eager ones, tasting the deep musky flavor of his cruel mouth. When he pulls away, his lips are shining and his mind is awry; wasn't he wishing daggers on the professor just a few minutes ago?

_(none of it really matters)_

Lelouch's thin eyes smile along with his lips as he makes a deliberately slow turn, clicking his keys and causing the car to chirp. As Suzaku watches his retreating back, he feels his heart flounce about; will he ever hold any negative connotations with the professor? Would he give a damn for longer than ten seconds if the older were to commit a murder?

No, of course not. Because regardless of whatever cutting remarks are issued from that volcanically moist mouth, Suzaku will always feel that tugging sensation in his chest at the sight of him, that monopoly-of-sense—that misguided affection.

Despite the small amount of time that has elapsed even since their first meeting, Suzaku knows this much with certainty.

(I won't be able to let go of you.)

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Suzaku throws open Rivalz's perpetually unlocked front door, revealing the bluenette and Shirley dancing along with a computerized MC Hammer in front of the television, Wii remotes in hand. For a moment, he watches them, a frown settling across his features. "Can't Touch This? Really?" he asks loudly, and Rivalz jumps out of his skin, dropping the remote to the floor.

"Jesus, Suzaku, warn a guy!" he breathes, dramatically laying his hand across his chest. After a moment, though, he gets beyond theatrics, turning down the volume of the TV. An unbothered Shirley continues to dance. "She wanted to do this song, I had nothing to with it," he mutters. "So what's up?"

He closes his eyes. "It's about Lelouch."

"He dumped you?"

"Wh–no. Why would you say that?"

"I dunno." The song ends, and Shirley has won. She throws the remote down and joins them on the sofa. "Hear that, Shirley? Suzaku's got something to tell us about Lelouch."

"They had sex," she says plainly, reaching into a green plastic bowl and fisting a handful of popcorn.

"How did you know that?" Suzaku asks, shocked.

"Because you were limping a little when you came in," she explains, and Suzaku freezes as if he's been electrocuted.

Rivalz is gaping at him. "You bottomed? And you think you know somebody."

"I just caught you playing Just Dance," Suzaku reminds him flatly. "Besides, why is it so hard to beli – never mind. Do you want to hear the story or not?" He assumes they do, judging from the looks on their faces, so he regales them with his and Lelouch's journey to the Quarter, then his very sudden and violent stomach virus, which would subside completely in a matter of minutes and give way to the arousal that got him into the situation that's brought him here.

Shirley blinks at him. "You slept with Lulu?" she asks gently, her green eyes like great jade saucers. He nods, looking a bit exasperated by her dimness. "Well come on, tell me all about it. And don't skip the juicy details!" she says in a way that seriously makes him wonder if she's channeling Milly.

"_Please _skip the juicy details; I don't want to hear about Lamperouge's schlong." He picks up the Wii remote and navigates back to the main menu, looking noticeably perturbed.

Shirley sighs, crossing her legs. "Fine, but how was it?"

"Amazing," Suzaku says in all honesty, but a bit hesitantly, feeling distinctly paranoid about being labeled as one of those annoying gay men who brags about his sexual escapades. "It was just… really new for me."

"You don't think you did a good job?"

"Would you two _please _go to another room or outside or _something?" _Rivalz grumbles, starting to play tennis with a Mii that looks nothing like him. "I mean I'm all for you and Lamperouge, Suzaku, but I'm trying to concentrate," he says, a bit more nicely.

"I didn't really come here to talk about that," he says, though that had been pretty high on the agenda, "I'm here because the three of us never hang out anymore."

"That's nobody's fault," Shirley puts in affably. "I have my charity work, you have Lelouch, and Rivalz has…the…Wii?"

"Hey, I'm working on getting a girlfriend, remember?" he says matter-of-factly, groaning as the simulated opponent creams him, 45-love. "I've just got high standards."

Suzaku sighs; sometimes it's nice to escape Lelouch and return to the friends he's had since he was thirteen. And what good friends they are; they have not ridiculed or belittled him for the choices he's made in recent months, nor tried to sway him from breaking it off with Euphemia, who they both adore. Friends like this just don't exist in the real world.

And Suzaku is grateful that for him, an exception was made.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

The hard buzz of a phone against wood wakes him.

Blearily he stares over onto his bedside table, expecting a post-rejection bitch session sans Rivalz, but seeing _call from… Lelouch_ in those bold letters. With tired, ponderous hands, he plucks up his phone and answers it.

"Hello?"

"Were you sleeping?"

"No."

"Try again."

"Yeah. But I can talk to you. What's up?" the brunet sits up, as springy as someone who's just drank three cups of coffee.

"Nothing much, really. I just wanted to see how you were." And his tone betrays that really, that was all he wanted. Lelouch, as complex as he is, is strange at times.

"I'm good," he says, with a bit too much enthusiasm.

A soft, throaty fraction of a laugh; Lelouch melts his nerves like butter. "I'm glad."

Suzaku leans back, his head collapsing against his pillow. He switches the phone to his other hand. "Do you have work to do today?" He can see him now, in some loose-fitting sweater and glasses, surrounded by books and papers.

"I do. Beyond that I'm really not feeling too well, I'm a bit fatigued." And he sounds like it, his voice cracking at the edges. "I ache all over. Maybe I have a flu coming on."

A wave of disappointment hits Suzaku. "I hope not. Then who's going to teach the class?"

Lelouch laughs again. "I'd hope you care more about my well-being than Macbeth, Suzaku."

"I really do have to start focusing," the brunet says resiliently, "I said to myself at the beginning of the year that I'd work and I didn't do anything past the first week."

"If it helps," Lelouch begins, and there is a scuffling in the background as he moves around, "You have a good grade in my class."

Suzaku sighs. "Meanwhile everything else is average to poor."

"Maybe we should take a workday. You pick up your grades and I'll turn mine in. Deal?"

"You can't come over later?" the brunet asks suddenly, a frown marring his tan features. "I mean, I understand if you can't, but you really—I mean—"

"I will visit you," Lelouch says slowly, deliberately, amusement coloring his voice. "Calm down. Remember what I said about building up tolerance. You're going to get tired of me pretty soon."

"No way," Suzaku says stonily. "Nobody could get tired of you."

"Trust me, it's possible," the Professor says dryly, scratching out a footnote he no longer needs. "Spend a little time with Rivalz. You never mention him anymore." Truth be told Suzaku doesn't mention anyone other than him, and it worries the older sometimes; he really needs to prioritize when it comes to the friends he seemed so close to. "Suzaku? Are you there?"

"Yeah. I was just thinking about what you said."

"Consider it. Or go out and do something. I'll lend you my car if you need it."

Reminded of his abysmal driving skills, Suzaku winces. "No thanks, I think I'm good on foot."

"Go to the library. See a movie. You can't keep divvying all your time up to me."

"I know that," Suzaku says, waving idly to Clovis, who is entering their dorm with rather heavy bags of what he hopes are groceries. "I just… want to see you all the time. You know that. And I don't feel like it's a poor way to spend my time."

Lelouch turns the page in his book. "You may not think so, but I want you to focus on something else. Just for one day. It'll be good for you."

His desire won't budge, but the older does make a good point. Over the past few weeks, they've barely spent any time apart, and that can't be healthy; the talk about building up tolerances repeats again in his head, and he clears his throat. "Yeah. Okay. I'll call somebody."

"All right. Have a good day, Suzaku."

"Okay, bye."

"Goodbye," is the soft reply before the connection is terminated.

His nerves frayed, Suzaku resists the urge to pace around the room. What is he going to do? Rivalz and Shirley have gone to some new amusement park and Clovis certainly isn't on the list of people he feels comfortable spending the day with.

The only other person he can think of is Euphy.

This brings a soft tugging to his heartstrings; while it's true he will always love her, he doesn't want to dredge up any sour feelings today. Not when she's probably busy with some project, and he'd probably end up talking about Lelouch the whole time anyway, which is a recipe for disaster. Starting to think about her has cracked open a shell of regret that sits high in his ribcage. Not regret for what he did, but for causing her pain because of it. She really hadn't deserved it, no matter what he told Lelouch in a moment of weakness.

Besides, she probably wouldn't want to talk to him if he called.

He stands up and wanders into the small kitchen, watching Clovis stock up the fridge. The blond smiles at him but doesn't speak. While he may be bizarre and antisocial, Clovis doesn't pry or try to force himself on anyone, like so many people this age. Suzaku takes a seat at the table.

Eventually, though, he does talk. "I'm considering having new lights installed. These are too bright a lot of the time."

Though the lights are fine, Suzaku agrees, "Yeah." And messes with a torn packet of artificial sweetener, presumably left by Lelouch, the only person he knows who drinks coffee. "I like the flooring, though."

"It feels nice," Clovis affirms. "But the walls concern me. They're bland."

Unbothered by their white simplicity, Suzaku shrugs. "Maybe you could paint them a neutral color. I've heard that bright colors on walls are stressful."

"Mm." He thinks it over. "Taupe," is the final reply. "Would you like that?"

"Sure." Suzaku isn't quite sure what taupe is but he's sure it's somehow related to brown. "And we could buy new curtains for the windows. They're starting to fade."

"That's because they're older. Quite like that friend of yours, the professor. Isn't he that Lamperouge fellow, Astrology?"

"Literature," Suzaku corrects, a bit exasperated by his inability to escape the older in any form.

Clovis picks up the sugar packet and promptly throws it away. "That was my second guess. Has he any relation to the royal family, by any chance?"

Confused, Suzaku blinks. "Not that I know of. Why would you think that?"

"He looks a lot like one of the Emperor's sons… never mind, it's probably a coincidence." Fishing around in the refridgerator, Clovis pulls out a rather large and thick-looking cheesecake. His mouth watering, Suzaku stares at his hands. "You can have a piece, you know. You pay for the electric and I buy the food. That was our deal, remember?" He cuts the confection; a bit heavily as it's been in the fridge awhile, giving his roommate a larger piece. "Trying to lose a bit of weight," he explains, sitting back down.

Suzaku takes a bite and after the initial shock of sucrose, he eats more quickly. "I don't think he's even been near the Imperial Court. He seems to hate the government."

"As many do." Clovis looks longways at his fork. "Our dear Emperor is rather corrupt, and a bit tyrannical, if I may say so. I don't think I'm alone in hoping he's assassinated soon, though I doubt that."

The brunet, who isn't exactly the smartest when it comes to politics, nods gently. "Yeah. Hopefully the next person in line will be nicer."

Clovis smiles; Suzaku is quite simple, really. "Aren't you from Japan?" of course, that much is obvious, by the gentle clips of accent he's heard (mostly in Suzaku's _l's, _a dead giveaway).

"I was born in Kyoto. We lived there until I was eleven."

"Why did you move?"

"Well." Suzaku swallows. "My father died."

A silence. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't anyone's fault." _Except mine. _"He wanted to be buried next to my mother, so that's what was done." He isn't sure why he would even think of telling Clovis this – hell, he's never even mentioned it to Lelouch – but after being silent for so long, he figures he'll spill it to anyone who'll listen. "Oba-san—ah, my grandmother—said I could come and live with her. So I came to Pendragon in sixth grade."

"That must have been hard for you," Clovis says, and his sympathy is genuine. It's in his eyes more than anything is. "I've lived here all my life. I've heard Japan is much greener."

Wistfully, Suzaku nods. "In some places. But once you get to bigger cities you'll be lucky to see a shrub."

"I suppose it's like that everywhere."

For a while, they sit together. It's a nice little friendship; Clovis doesn't push him, and listens when he wants to say something. He also gives free cheesecake. Suzaku thinks that whenever Lelouch has a workday, he should devote a bit of time to his roommate.

He doesn't seem to have many friends, after all.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Lelouch looks like death when he sees him; his hair tousled, eyes tinted dark, and skin more pallid than he can ever recall seeing. He's definitely coming up on one of those seasonal flus. However they don't greet one another intimately as Suzaku had so looked forward to; the older merely nods and gestures for him to sit.

"How are you?" Suzaku hedges, smiling lightly. How he's missed him, and it's only been about twelve hours.

"Sick," Lelouch reminds him dryly, crossing his legs. "I woke up with a cough and I've had it all day. It's probably bronchitis." There is a slight wheeze undermining his breath. "You, on the other hand, are fine."

"I have a strong immune system." He shrugs. "So, uh… get much work done?"

"Enough. I still have a good bit left."

"I see." His hand is rather shaky at his side, coupled with the nervous swipe of his tongue across his dry lips. Earlier today Suzaku had spent quite a while coming up with strategies not to lose himself in front of Lelouch; but now any of it may as well be Greek to him. "And, uh, is Nunnally around?"

Confused, Lelouch blinks at him.

"She's staying with Sayoko."

"And C.C.?"

Lelouch takes his glasses off. "At the arcade, or so she said. That's probably code for nightclub." He takes his glasses off and massages his temples, head resting in his hand for about a minute. "I regret not doing this earlier in the semester. It's a headache."

"Maybe you should take a break," the younger suggests, messing with a complicated-looking pen. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, they say."

"They also say that idle hands are the devil's workshop," Lelouch counters, pulling the pen away and using it to mark something on his paper. "Watch TV or something. I'll be done eventually."

"Eventually." Suzaku sighs and gets to his feet. "Professor, Professor."

His eyes swivel to follow Suzaku's form, which has suddenly moved behind him.

"What?" he asks, suspicion coloring his rough voice. "What do you think you're doing?" a wet kiss warms and springs up goosebumps on his neck; through the corner of his eye he meets the mischievous olive gaze.

"Aw, come on. Didn't you miss me?"

"Yes, but you don't have to express it right this momen—_nngh,_" Suzaku's hands snake down the front of his body and up the thin material of his shirt, feeling his thin chest and certainly his pulverizing heartbeat, but if he notices he doesn't acknowledge it, merely pushing his thumb across Lelouch's nipple while simultaneously laying sloppy wet kisses against the shell of his ear. Beneath him the ex-prince quakes in the chair, struggling to keep his mouth shut as Suzaku rubs circles over his chest.

"Please?" Suzaku asks, dragging teeth across his collarbone. "Let me?"

"Let you what?" he asks with no degree of hesitation; but it becomes quite clear as soon as he feels that sun-darkened hand squeeze his clothed length. Flexing his pelvic muscles on instinct, the older tries his damndest to reason with his student. "You've only been here—not even five minutes yet—" it's becoming increasingly difficult to ignore that hand that lovingly rubs his crotch, a soft laugh deep and fluttery against his neck.

"Then you should know how badly I wanted it all day."

With that a suddenly very impatient Suzaku whips the chair around and kisses him, feeling Lelouch groan into his mouth as their tongues rub and twist. He scoots a knee between Lelouch's legs and rubs firmly, his hands busy pushing up that annoying shirt. Feeling the fabric round his knee dampen, he pulls wetly away from Lelouch and, while frotting against his lap, pulls his own shirt up over his head and shucks it to the floor. Finally cooperating, Lelouch does the same.

"You're…certainly…getting less shy," Lelouch says with an arousal-tainted laugh as Suzaku plucks open the button of his pants and shoves his hand inside.

"Like you said." Suzaku lifts Lelouch's cock out through his red boxer shorts, "we're lovers."

For a moment, their eyes meet, just before Suzaku tongues him eagerly, and any optical flame kindled is hereby extinguished. He likes how Suzaku moans around him, pushing his lover's member further into the engaging tightness of his throat with each bob of his head, stroking at a thin hip with an unoccupied left hand.

"Come on," a strained voice above him whines, "I have to get back to work."

"Work?" muffled and bobbing, Suzaku squeezes his thigh. "Why would you work when you can play?" he lets Lelouch slide from between his lips and immediately replaces the length with his fingers, slicking them to working order before bringing them down to his own cock, giving it identical treatment.

Lelouch doesn't answer; he just dips his head back against the neckrest of the chair. However his eyes open when he feels Suzaku – _Suzaku –_

"…tight," Suzaku finally says, euphoria squeezing his voice. "Oh, fuck…"

It's been a while since he's been taken like this; Lelouch feels his lower body ache strongly, vying to accept the familiar intruder. It does hurt, though, as it always will, though over time he's realized it hurts less and less each time. "Move," he says gruffly, hooking his hands around Suzaku's back. Sex in a chair, regardless of how interesting it may be, is bound to be difficult, and he wonders just how the younger will go about it.

The answer is wonderfully; Suzaku uses his foot to push the chair up against the wall, giving the wonderful gift of resistance to their lovemaking. He complies with the other's request and throws his hips experimentally, still so deliciously pulverized by Lelouch's narrow passage as he does. The older sighs blissfully, "You were right," he breathes, "why… work… when… _mm…_" his fingernails dig into Suzaku's flexing back, legs shaking around him.

"I know you have a superiority complex and everything, but you've got to learn how to give in." Suzaku pulls out and slams back in deeper; and Lelouch's eyes nearly roll back as a moan crushes through his teeth. The younger rocks him up in a furious rhythm, his low grunts punctuating the air along with Lelouch's sobbing breaths.

"I _know _h-how to give in," the older grounds out. "It's just something I don't like to do often—" he keens as Suzaku knocks across his prostate, his fingernails scrabbling heedlessly. In the painful realization that he won't be able to hold on much longer, he speaks two words he's never quite imagined himself saying: "S-slow down, would you?"

Suzaku hits that same spot, a smile gracing his lips as he watches Lelouch desperately rotate his hips, trying to help the process along. He indulges him once more and they quite literally fall out of the chair, and the coldness of the floor is beyond the older's attention as Suzaku starts to drive into him again without warning, obliterating any control he may have had over his voice box with constant, direct hits to his prostate.

Lelouch remains prone with his legs high in the air as his entire body rocks to a rhythm he's always found more appealing than any music known to man. Hair, matted with sweat and fanned out beneath him on the floor; arms, wrapped in a death grip around Suzaku's strong back, digging red half-moons into the heated skin there as he spirals in and out of coherence, Suzaku's low grunts filling his ears and pooling straight to his crotch.

And that boy throwing his hips, being tugged in by Lelouch's welcoming body, suffocated in nerve-licking heat and tightness, the tightest he's ever felt. His arms, bent on either side of Lelouch's head, palms to the floor, biceps taut as he puts all his weight on his hands. His mouth shining with saliva and precum, open as he fights a losing battle to stay silent. His eyes open as he watches Lelouch's face, contorted in ecstasy and far from its usual composure.

"Suzaku… I…" his legs open further as he guides Suzaku to move harder, to go _deeper_, pushing his hips forward. He isn't sure how he's been thinking through the onslaught of pleasurable hits to his prostate, through the nauseatingly wonderful sound of skin slapping, and his own derailed breath, but he knows what he wants to say.

"Mm?" Suzaku complies with Lelouch's wish, rocking his hips at a faster pace. He watches his body gyrate beneath him, pale skin and dark hair and writhing poetry, and he nearly groans, but thankfully he doesn't because then he would've missed Lelouch's whispered word: "Please."

And he chokes out a hard breath, part euphoria, part pleasurable discomfort due to what's going on down below. A quick glance downward reveals Lelouch's stomach going taut, as he clenches himself on Suzaku.

"Oh _god, _Lelouch," he breathes, shoving himself further into that heated grip and feeling his stomach spool hotly; simultaneously Lelouch cries out, his head tipping back and his grip tightening on Suzaku's back, his nails nearly breaking skin as he falls into oblivion; he feels something sharp – teeth – on his shoulder, and without warning Suzaku's hips jut faster than before, thrusts landing on different spots inside him.

He looks up into the boy's face and sees him, eyes pinched shut, teeth clenched, mewling through his nose as he goes _forward forward forward _and then finally empties inside him, his hips moving heedlessly before slowing to a stop.

Without missing a beat, he slinks a sweaty hand down the length of their bodies and gives Lelouch's cock a long, hard tug, massaging the head between his fingers, and with a low, heavy noise, Lelouch comes as well. For a moment, they are quiet and he can feel Suzaku's smile against his neck, the mingled scent of sex and sweat perfuming the air.

With bleary, unfocused heat encompassing him, Suzaku finds himself on cloud nine, kissing Lelouch's lips, "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he breathes reverently, dipping under his chin to kiss the skin there.

Lelouch exhales heavily, angling a hand up to stroke Suzaku's sweaty mop of hair. "…mmh," he replies intelligently, careless to carry on the conversation. He would like very much to lie in this floor with Suzaku forever, to melt into the hardwood and become part of its pattern. Alas, the boy comes down quicker than he does, and he feels an unexpected rush of air when he gets to his feet and scoops him up as easily as if he's a doll. In a move both plebian and charmingly cliché, Suzaku carries him bridal-style across the room and they collapse onto the bed together, sated and silent.

Until Suzaku states the obvious in a soft voice. "It's raining," and he is right; sudden precipitation assails Lelouch's roof, filling the room with its insistent echoes. The older responds with a soft '_mm'_, reaching down to pull the coverlet over their naked bodies as he lets loose a long breath, coasting a hand across his cool chest and feeling the bounding heartbeat just beneath the skin.

It's as if he was a spring, coiled and finally released, stretching now into the peaceful oblivion during which he's always complacent, silent, and yielding. Suzaku can be heard to his left, breathing softly and moving under the covers, trying to get comfortable.

For once, they're quiet for longer than a minute—for the rest of the night, actually, since Lelouch passed out not even three minutes after they got into bed, and Suzaku is content with his thoughts for company. After all right now they are only good things—like how he could please Lelouch as well as Lelouch pleased him, and how the older seems to be opening up to him, at least a little bit. Feeling his thoughts slip away as he enters a blissful slumber, Suzaku smiles.

Perhaps it could work out, after all.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

He should've known not to jump to conclusions like that, because…

This cannot be happening, it simply can't.

Nevertheless, it is. He's sitting in the Dean's office in a blue chair; surrounded by framed declarations of the Dean's accomplishments and air so thick he could slash right through it. What he was being called here for wasn't specified. It didn't have to be. He knows perfectly well what it's about.

The Dean sits in front of him, looking over papers with agonizing attention. Suzaku can't quite control himself; he's sweating like a pig, his hair suddenly feeling like a burden atop his sweltering head. He sincerely worries that his bowels will liquefy at the slightest provocation, though that may give him an excuse to run out of here. No student is called to the Dean himself (more often his assistants) with the exception of those being considered for the Dean's List or those on the receiving end of Disciplinary Action.

Since he's no Albert Einstein, Suzaku is sure of the reason for his presence.

"Now, Mr.… Kururugi," the Dean begins. "Do you know why I've called you down here?"

Suzaku closes his eyes. "Yes, sir," he says queasily. "I'm receiving Disciplinary Action."

The Dean has tawny eyes; they are unforgiving as he peers at Suzaku. "I have received my monthly report from the resident assistants, Mr. Kururugi. We've had our share of discrepancies but only one like this requires my immediate attention."

There is a soft knock on the door. The Dean calls 'come in' and Suzaku's stomach flips as his suspicions are confirmed; there is Lelouch, demurely dressed in black slacks and a red sweater; after all, today is Saturday. The older doesn't even look at him as he comes in, just smiles kindly at the Dean.

"Hello, Lelouch," the Dean says solemnly. "Have a seat."

Lelouch sits, the poster child of innocence. "Good morning, Dean Carlan."

"I take it you know why you're here today?" his voice is stern but something in his eyes makes it clear that he and Lelouch are friends.

"Hello, Suzaku." He nods to Suzaku primly and crosses his legs. "Is this about my grades? I'm sorry they're late. A good many students have been submitting make-up work; I've tried to be lenient with my policies."

The Dean picks up his paper with thick fingers, ignoring Lelouch's sugary opening statement. "Now, Suzaku, you live in Nester Hall, is that correct?"

Suzaku's nerves are in free-fall. "Y-yes sir, I do."

"And your resident assistant is Mr. Gino Weinberg."

"Yes."

"Now, Mr. Weinberg stated in his report, verbatim: '_Professor Lelouch Lamperouge, of Arts and Sciences, often visits Suzaku Kururugi in his dormitory, and the reverse is also true. The visits often extend for hours and the two are constantly seen together in the halls.' _Now, Suzaku, would you like to explain?"

"We're friends," he says shakily. "Professor Lamperouge knows my family."

The Dean is expressionless. "Don't tell me stories. Lelouch, you were told repeatedly when you were briefed that professor-student relationships are a level five violation and may result in termination?"

Lelouch stares, equally blank-faced. "Do you have any concrete proof that either of us are homosexuals period, let alone with one another?"

"It isn't about your orientation, Lelouch, it's about the offense committed."

"The 'offense' you're speaking of is private tutoring between Suzaku and myself. While he's intelligent he is painfully inattentive and it often takes him hours to grasp a single concept." Suzaku isn't a big fan of Lelouch saying he's dumb, but if it gets rid of this tumultuous feeling in the pit of his stomach, he'll take it. "For you to consider an experience as beneficial as teaching to be a lie, to be wanton – well, Dean Carlan, I don't think I know you as well as I thought I did." The older then erupts into a fit of loud coughing, his eyes rather red as he does so.

Regardless, the Dean stares at him. "You cannot honestly think I'd believe that nonsense."

Lelouch looks up at him through his sooty lashes. "What proof do you have that it is nonsense?"

"If you find it amusing to take advantage of one of your students, I have news for you, Lelouch. Not only is it morally wrong but it's against the law. Were you a high school teacher, you would have already been incarcerated by now."

Lelouch looks at his fingernails. "I refuse to submit to something so ludicrous, Dean Carlan. I have been teaching Suzaku to conjugate and understand symbolism. If you, like many others, have the misguided view that I am a homosexual, I will refer you to my girlfriend, Cecilia Madron. Check your report; I'm sure there's something in there referring to her…?"

"Regardless, I find it absolutely idiotic that Suzaku would not simply hire a tutor of his own. They are covered in your student loans, Mr. Kururugi."

"Professor Lamperouge knows what he's talking about," Suzaku begins, going out on a mental limb, "He understands it more than the tutors. They're all in my grade and they're learning the same stuff I am. He's really helped me."

Surprisingly, the Dean seems to buy it; his gaze, however, hardens once again when he lays eyes on Lelouch. "How long have you been tutoring him?"

"Since September. He came to my classroom and asked," Lelouch coughs again, harshly, "for help."

The Dean's thick eyebrows jump up. "And if any other student made the same proposition, would you accept?"

"Certainly. Teaching is my forte, Dean Carlan. Surely from my resume you've picked up on that." His eyes twinkle with a feral gleam Suzaku recognizes as the manifestation of his internal victory-dance. "I'm forgiving, and I'd like to salvage the fine business relationship we have rather than see it deteriorate because of a petty little misunderstanding. I'll stop tutoring Suzaku if you need me to."

Conflict warring openly on his face, the Dean thinks over the saccharine declaration. In the end, he's won over as they all are. "You and Mr. Kururugi are to conduct your tutoring in one of the many study lounges on campus, _not _in a private dormitory. Is that understood, Professor Lamperouge?"

"Yes, of course," Lelouch assures him, getting to his feet and painting that engaging glaze over his features, extending a long-fingered hand for the Dean to shake. The older man does, with sufficiently less enthusiasm, looking even disoriented. "Now, I'll be sure to get my grades to you on or before the fifteenth – like I said, I try to be lenient…"

The rest is gibberish to Suzaku as the thrum of his heart finally starts to relax, his mind spiraling in and out of coherence. _Did we seriously just get away with this? _It looks that way, as Lelouch and Carlan smile and carry on with polite conversation, as if the inquisition had never happened and he isn't currently drowning in his own sweat behind them. It's surprising, but then it isn't—he hasn't met a single person who isn't at least inadvertently charmed by Lelouch, it's just not possible. "Can I go now?" he asks, surprised by how casual he sounds.

"Yes, yes," says the Dean, eyes following him as he walks out. "Lelouch, where are you going?"

"Well, as I said, I do have a lot of work to do," says the aforementioned professor, smiling as he ducks out the door. "Good day, Dean Carlan."

"I can't believe you pulled that off," Suzaku says in hushed tones as they walk down the hall together, away from certain punishment.

"Of course, I like my job," Lelouch says, as if it's that simple. "You, on the other hand, couldn't keep still. I was worried you'd break and spill everything."

Suzaku rolls his eyes, but he is smiling. "Nice one about the girlfriend, pulling a name out of nowhere. You could be a really good crook."

"I didn't pull it out of nowhere. Cecilia Madron, aka C.C., was technically my girlfriend once." He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a manila folder, presumably containing the late grades he'd feigned concern over. "Though you do realize what this means, Suzaku? You and I can't exactly go cavorting about the hallways anymore."

Suzaku blinks, confused. "What are you saying?" They enter the elevator that will lead them back to the ground floor, and the brunch that awaits the honor students. The brunet fully intends to pilfer donuts.

As if it's the most obvious thing in the world, Lelouch explains, "I'll have to set up other ways to see you, I suppose."

The pleasant _ding _opens the elevator doors they enter the lobby, which is swarming with Pendragon University's brightest. Many of them greet Lelouch, who murmurs detached hellos as he hurries through the din. Swiping a Danish, Suzaku follows him onto the crowded street on which the older's Hyundai is parked. "I'll give you a ride back to Nester," Lelouch says, opening the car door for the food-entranced Suzaku.

"What if I don't want to go to Nester?" he asks, put off by Lelouch's decision to 'set up new ways' to see him.

Still holding the open door, Lelouch looks at him with amusement. "Where do you want to go then, Suzaku?"

"Your house," the younger says directly. "Gino can't spy on us there."

"That doesn't mean he won't notice us both missing."

"Does he think we don't have places to go?"

Lelouch stares at him, his dark circles seemingly more intense. "Fine, but I have to work when we get there. Finish my grades. You can do whatever you want, just don't bother me." He gestures, exasperated, for Suzaku to get in the car, and he finally complies, eating the last of his stolen Danish. The radio is really beyond him, what with the splitting headache he acquired halfway through the Dean's inquisition. "Whenever I get finished I'll make you dinner."

Humming in satisfaction, Suzaku leans his head back onto the neck rest of his seat, still a bit on edge from his near-expulsion. How did Lelouch talk his way out of that mess? Second of all, why was Gino so damn attentive? Wasn't he supposed to be hunting for unsuspecting boys? "I'm sorry I couldn't be a little more discreet with – visiting you. I didn't think Gino even cared."

"Don't worry about it," the older says soothingly, "It's over now. Dean Carlan idolizes me. He told me many times he's always wanted to go to France and that he's read several of my books. He'd more likely blow up Nester than fire me." Never before has Lelouch's self-confidence had an effect rather than annoyance on Suzaku; now it works toward calming him. "I can – we'll figure out some way to see each other, I promise." _However, I'd more likely blow up Nester than keep any promise. _

_"_Sure. Your house."

"That commute is terrible, you know. There are a lot of hotels in Pendragon." The look that crosses Suzaku's face makes him reconsider. "What, you don't like that idea?"

"I like your house better. It's better than some hotel you didn't have any say in decorating."

Though he paid a decorator, Lelouch smiles. "Thank you, but it's about convenience more than anything." He trails off, his throat aching; he really has to buy more cough syrup, and hide it this time, since C.C. tends to drink all of it.

Suzaku props his face in his hand, elbow on the compartment between the driver's and passenger's seats. "I thought we'd be busted for sure."

"With the proper initiative you can talk your way out of anything." Lelouch pats his hand reassuringly. "Now, quit dwelling on it. I still have my job and you still get to live in that pitiably small dorm room."

Lelouch can't understand, because he wasn't the one getting ready to shit himself the entire time. Nonetheless, Suzaku smiles demurely and nods, rolling his eyes as he turns his glance back to the window. Inevitably, he thinks over their meeting with the Dean yet again, his mind stuck on a particular string of words:

(_If you find it amusing to take advantage of your students)_

_(Take advantage of your students)_

His head swivels a fraction of a turn to look at Lelouch, rolling that phrase around in his head. Is Lelouch taking advantage of him? No—Lelouch is too blunt not to simply say so if he were. While he may be a little morally inept, he isn't completely devoid of a conscience. Lelouch, taking advantage of him? Ridiculous! How can that be when he's just as guilty as he is? He wanted it, all of it, including last night. The idea of Lelouch doing something so manipulative is appalling to Suzaku, who dismisses it.

(But, reader, does that mean it's untrue_?)_

He opens the window, the wind sending his curls into frenzy and blowing a cool breeze across his face. Lately he's been unable to streamline his thoughts, thousands of things running through his head at the same time, most of them Lelouch-related. (_Take advantage of your students) _

Suzaku closes the window, a huff escaping him.

"What?" asks the older softly.

Suzaku shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Try again." Lelouch scratches his neck and turns onto the beltway, pressing his lips together.

"I was just thinking about you and me."

"What about us?"

Testing the waters, Suzaku says, "Do you think we could ever be… serious?"

"You are the only person I'm seeing and, in light of recent events, the only person I'm sleeping with."

Suzaku had not consciously thought Lelouch had been seeing anyone else, but the affirmation that he isn't puts him almost entirely at ease. "Same here."

The older looks thoughtful as they drive along, but he says nothing. Does Lelouch ever stop thinking? He doubts it.

_Suzaku is taking this more seriously than I assumed… _he bites his lip and presses harder on the gas, speeding up and increasing the motor's volume while simultaneously ignoring Suzaku's confused expression. He just needs to get home and get to work, get away from these constricted thoughts about the boy in the passenger's seat. Because _constricted _is the only word to describe them: they're inescapable, and they never change position.

It's true he is very fond of Suzaku, in many ways; he likes his effervescence and his grit, his round eyes and big lips, his sunny greetings and his glibness. He likes how they can argue and make up in a matter of seconds. He sees Suzaku as a sort of protégé, someone to school in the ways of life, an aspect of their relationship he hadn't anticipated in the beginning.

"What am I to you?" asks that voice through the din, its origin an expectant tan face. Lelouch slows down a bit, his nerves afright at this particular question. Not because he doesn't know the answer; but because he doesn't know if it's what Suzaku wants to hear.

"You're my lover," he replies succinctly, placing his hand on Suzaku's leg. "Isn't that a given?"

Suzaku looks away, his lips pursed. "It is."

Again, they acquiesce into that glaring silence in which both their brains work on overdrive, trying to decipher words and expressions and vocal inflections. The younger quite likes Lelouch's phrasing; he's been called a _boyfriend _before but never a _lover. _It sounds so much better.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,

"Come on, you can't sit at that desk forever."

"I assure you, I can." Lelouch rolls his eyes and wets his finger, thumbing through his gradebook to reach a certain student's sheet. "Don't make me regret bringing you over here, Suzaku."

The brunet frowns. "At least take a break," he nearly whines, thumbing the radio's knob. Lelouch's suspicions are confirmed when he flicks it on, filling the room with a slow tune. "You've been writing in that book for hours now."

"And I only need to for one more," Lelouch promises. "Just go watch TV or something." He ignores the way Suzaku sways back and forth, tugging on his arm as a nonverbal way of asking him to dance. The younger boy's blatant disregard for his need to turn in these grades is really starting to rub him the wrong way. "_Suzaku. _Come on. I'm sick and I'm tired and I honestly have to finish this."

"Dance with me once and I promise I'll leave you alone." A flicker in those green eyes makes him sigh.

Lelouch coughs roughly for a moment, discomfort contorting his face. Then, "For the rest of the night?"

"Scout's honor."

Biting his lip, he sets down his pen with an audible _click _and stands up, watching Suzaku's face erupt in happiness. "Where do I put my hands?"

"On my shoulders."

_Missed the last train home…_

Violet eyes flash. "Why is it I have to be the _woman_?"

"Don't pretend you didn't see this coming," Suzaku chuckles, lifting Lelouch's bony hands to his shoulders and taking his lithe waist and moving him to the tune. "See? It's good."

Lelouch lets out a heavy sigh, his eyelids slipping shut behind his glasses. "Do you like to see me suffer, Suzaku?" he asks, tightening his hands a bit on his shoulders as a sort of reprimand. Of course it has no effect on him, what with those muscles that he _still_ hasn't figured out how Suzaku has the time to maintain.

The brunet thinks that over. "No. I just think you could use a little more fun in your life."

"And _you _are the person to help me out with that imbalance because…?"

When he opens his eyes, he sees Suzaku looking off to the side, smiling brightly. "Because you'll soon learn that I'm the funnest person you could ever want to meet."

He snorts. "'Funnest'?"

Suzaku rolls his eyes. "Move a little more. I feel like I'm dancing with a wax statue."

_Over pushing myself to finish this part, I can handle a lot, b__ut one thing I'm missing is in your eyes (1)_

"I'm glad you're finally working on your grades," Suzaku says, dipping the older. "You've been complaining about them for a while."

"Well, _someone _keeps hindering my progress," Lelouch reminds him with a coy smile. "But I'm glad it was you of all people." He expects Suzaku to make some inconsequential remark like he always does; but the brunet takes him by surprise and tips his head down, burying his face in Lelouch's neck as they sway.

This feeling is new to Lelouch; a mental state with no worries or inhibitions, no deadlines to meet or issues to ice over. It is only him and Suzaku, entwined and moving back and forth to the soft beat of a repetitive song, his veins warmed by the smile he can feel against his jugular and the strong arms wrapped around his neck; by the pleasurable abandon of the young man who was once so closed-off.

_Washing my hands of attachments yeah… land on the ground, one thing I'm missing, is in your eyes, in your eyes, in your eyes…_

He allows his own eyelids to slip closed as his movements still simultaneously; but his dance partner isn't quite so composed.

"You're shaking," he points out in that deep voice, which only makes it worse. Suzaku shrugs a little. "Do I still make you nervous?"

"Everything makes me nervous," Suzaku breathes inconsequentially, trying not to look Lelouch in the eye for too long; he finds that when he does this, it's easy to lose himself in that colorful stare. "I like this song."

"It's relaxing," Lelouch comments, gazing relentlessly. "You know, something, Suzaku?"

Swaying to break up the uncomfortable moment, he murmurs a soft _hm._

Lelouch's sharp cheekbones curl to a smile, and his eyes seem to intensify further. "You're really very striking. I thought I'd let you know as I don't think I ever have before."

"Nobody ever has," Suzaku admits with a wry smile. "Thank you." The frayed edges of his curls are dyed golden by the sinking sun, which also lights up his eyes.

He doesn't bumble or blush; while this surprises Lelouch, it also warms him, distantly, for reasons he cannot discern. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, dipping his head back to look up at Suzaku. "They should. And that isn't me trying to flatter you. I've never met a Japanese who was so beautiful."

"I think you're beautiful too," Suzaku says surely, swiftly, without hesitation. "To the point where I wonder why you want to be with me." He sinks down to sit as well.

"Some things can't be explained," says the older lowly, "with words. That's something all writers have to understand." He buries his face in Suzaku's neck and looks out the window, a million thoughts rushing into his head and colliding like freight trains. Not long ago he'd been doing this under the premise that he'd eventually break up with Suzaku for good and move on – but what, exactly, is this warmth festooning around in his ribcage? And why, with his super powered brain, can't he rationalize through this? "I don't know how to word… how I feel."

His heart thumps as Suzaku stares at him, his green eyes as emotionless as the rest of him. Then, finally, he says, "You don't have to. I think I understand."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

At the start of the week, Suzaku finds himself hating life, as most students tend to. He sat through all of his boring classes with their boring instructors—Gottwald, Lowmeyer, Darenya, and then finally Lamperouge. On his way to this particular class, there is a tangible lift in his step, a glint in his eye. Rivalz walks with him, hoisting an umbrella over their heads and constantly readjusting it as Suzaku zips past him, all too eager to see Lelouch.

But he isn't here.

Suzaku deflates like an old balloon, glancing back at the door as if wondering if there's still time to bolt back to Nester. But the substitute professor closes the door and tells them rather sternly to sit and go over any notes they've taken over the past week—a repetition of the instructions on the board, written in Lelouch's elegant hand. He sits in his seat and draws a palm tree on the desk.

Rivalz watches him long ways, eventually deciding to send him a message in the margin of the notes he's supposed to study. **Tough break about Lelouch.**

_He's sick, _the brunet explains, his gaze perpetually locked on the older's desk. _He thinks he has bronchitis._

**Why don't you have it?**

_I don't know. _The conversation ends, here, because Shirley snatches up the note and reads it, eventually tossing it to the side in boredom. The two boys look at each other and return to their own activities, ignoring the flat voice of their replacement instructor and silently urging the two and a half hours to go by faster.

However, it doesn't. Suzaku cracks his knuckles and sits back in his chair, wondering about his older lover. It's not like Lelouch to miss class, bronchitis or not, considering how important teaching is to him. _Maybe it's just really bad, _he thinks to himself, sprigs of worry growing like wildfire in his conscience. Lelouch doesn't exactly have the strongest body in the world.

A loud noise; Kallen Stadtfeld has knocked her textbook over. Glaring daggers at those who dare to watch her after her blunder she snatches it up and leaves the room quickly, her magenta hair nearly covering her eyes. Rivalz meets his eyes and they exchange a confused look; the substitute's gaze follows her, but she does not try to call her back. It's known that Kallen is somewhat antisocial, unkind even, and often misses class due to health problems, and this is surely written somewhere in Lelouch's advice to his replacement, because the woman looks back to her work as if nothing happened.

Suzaku is hit in the head by a paper airplane; he looks up to see a young man with light brown hair and limpid purplish eyes, staring wordlessly at him. Doing his best to hold in the glare he'd intended to shoot, Suzaku returns the projectile to its maker and looks forward again.

"Paper airplanes are for high schoolers," Rivalz mutters, rolling his eyes. "Come to think of it, I've never seen that kid before."

Thinking back, the brunet frowns. "Me either." Being relatively affable, he swivels his head back again, "What's your name?"

The kid blinks. "Rolo. Rolo Haliburton."

"Aren't Rolos a kind of candy?" Rivalz asks; Suzaku promptly elbows him under the table. "Ah-I mean hi. I'm Rivalz Cardemonde."

"I'm Suzaku Kururugi." The boy looks back at them with glassy eyes, taking a moment before responding.

"I transferred from Valencia University." His voice is rather meek, not unlike Kallen's; but there's an underlying authority to him that truly confuses the Japanese boy sitting opposite him. "Is that woman there really our professor? She's horrifying," he whispers.

"She's a substitute. Our Professor is sick. He's… not horrifying," Suzaku offers with a soft smile. _He's wonderful._

"Yes, that makes sense." Rolo fishes around in his pocket. "My schedule said it was a Professor Lelouch Lamperouge. He sounds French." He looks at the paper with a slight smile. "What's he like?"

"Tall skinny guy, black hair, dresses fancy, never stops talking," Rivalz generalizes. "You won't like him unless you actually care about what he's teaching."

"I happen to love Literature," Rolo replies crisply, "So I probably will."

The bluenette and Suzaku exchange a look; this one is exasperated. "He assigns a lot of work, so be prepared," Suzaku warns.

"I can manage." Rolo's pert lips smile rather tersely. "Do either of you have these notes your professor wants you to study?"

Rivalz tosses his notebook to him. "Here." With a small hand Rolo starts to copy the writings immediately, and his new acquaintances do a 180; Suzaku frowns at Rivalz. Rivalz looks back, as if to say, _what a douche._

Later, Suzaku runs up the stairs to Nester as fast as his body will allow; and with a body like his, that's saying something. He almost misses Lelouch's door.

He knocks and there is an immediate answer. It's C.C.; his heart sinks.

"What do you want?" she asks, however without cruelty; she's chewing on a pizza crust, so any joneses she may have been harboring are mere memories now.

"Is Lelouch here?" he asks, trying not to sound hopeful. He does anyway.

Catlike eyes flicker into the dark room behind her. "He's sleeping," she replies serenely. "I'll tell him you dropped by… if I remember." She munches on the last bit of the crust, closing the door.

"Wait!" Suzaku catches it with his heel, the wood thudding against his tennis shoe. C.C. glares. "Is he okay? He told me he was sick yesterday, but I didn't think it'd get bad enough for him to miss class."

Her nose twitches. "Lelouch told me you'd keep asking questions. Well, if you must know, he has a cough. Thank you and please pull around to the next window." She pushes the door against his foot in repeated thumps. They lock eyes and she rolls hers. "He'll be back tomorrow, lover boy. Don't wet your pants."

Relaxation coursing through him, Suzaku pulls his foot away, only for her to slam the door in his face. He edges down the hall to Room 222, slipping in his room key and seeing Clovis on his laptop, typing furiously.

"Hello, Suzaku," he says genially, with a faint smile. "I bought curtains today."

Blinking, the young Kururugi takes in the boxes in the corner. Indeed, his peer was true to his word, and bought replacements for those fading failures adorning their little windows. He's equally surprised and saddened by the fact that this was all Clovis had to do.

But he seems happy about it. "Yours match your bedspread."

"Thank you," Suzaku says, overwhelmed with gratitude. The issue of curtains hasn't exactly been pressing him but he can't believe Clovis is so… accommodating, as well as friendly. "I needed these."

"I was going to buy paint, too, but I figure we need permission from Gino before we change anything in here. I don't think he'll allow it, but." He smiles, dimpled. "It'll be worth a shot."

Suzaku pulls a pocketknife from his jeans and slits open the curtain box, finding that the drapes really do match his navy blue coverlet. The rods and hooks of it look rather complicated, but he figures it out, and soon the faded university-issue curtains are replaced. "Thanks again." He slumps over on his bed, tired from another long day (this one especially lengthy due to the absence of the one person who's made the annoying commutes and endless notes worthwhile). He buries his brown head in his pillow, kicking off his runners and socks.

"Certainly, certainly," Clovis says almost lazily, a delayed reaction. He eats chips as he surfs the web. Suzaku feels bad for his keyboard. "Good night, Suzaku."

"Night," Suzaku murmurs, pulling his rumpled blanket virginally up to his chin and peering at the wall.

He dreams of violet irises, pizza, and clocks without hands.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Yet again, his morning classes pass in monotony, all paling in comparison to the highlight of his day, which come one o'clock has him walking on sunshine yet again, this time under no false pretense. He arrives at the Saffron Building alone, rolling up the sleeves of his black sweatshirt as he walks into Lelouch's class.

The older male doesn't see him immediately; he's too busy speaking to that annoying Rolo Haliburton, who evidently introduced himself. When that dialogue is finished, he approaches him, speaking lowly.

"Feeling better?"

Lelouch sweeps his hair out of his eyes; eyes whose shadows are much darker than usual. "Much," he says, and that one word warms Suzaku, in its velvety assurance. His voice lowers. "I missed you. C.C. told me you stopped by."

"I tried to come in, but she wouldn't let me."

The elder chuckles. "You have to learn to push her away and tell her you're not taking no for an answer. Otherwise she'll get big-headed." They exchange a smile, purely because they're just so happy to see each other, especially from Suzaku's end. It takes a great amount of self-control to keep from shooting forward and kissing the professor here, in front of everyone. "Now, go and sit down. We'll talk after class." A pale eyelid flicks shut in a wink.

Suzaku complies, his chest heated and his mind astray. This classroom was so murky and grey without Lelouch here; now he'll be happy to sit through a thousand lectures.

Rivalz comes in a bit late, hair mussed. "Car wouldn't start," he explains to Lelouch, who's doing something on his phone, and sidles in next to Suzaku, who looks as if he just stepped out of a sauna. "I bet you're happy, huh?" he says quietly with a short laugh.

"Yeah," Suzaku says with a sunny smile. His pocket buzzes and, expecting a rambled quip from Shirley, feels heat shoot up his spine at the words before him. **How would you feel if I fucked you right now, on my desk? Fucked you raw?**

His breath catches and his eyes flicker up, meeting Lelouch's blank but somewhat menacing gaze. He just stares at his phone and the older gets up, apparently deciding that Suzaku wasn't going to reply. "All right, I told you to go over your notes yesterday… now, who can tell me T.S. Eliot's most _famous _work?"

Rolo calls out, "The Waste Land," and a few pupils that are more studious turn to glare at him.

Lelouch smiles. "Good, Rolo. You're prepared." A muted beep from pulls an anticipating grin up onto his face. He pulls it out of his pocket and turns away for a second. He blanches. **I'd feel good. But not as good as you'd feel with your cock down my throat. Or what about the other way around? **

Suzaku smirks from his seat, thumbing his phone back into the pocket of his sweatshirt. _Two can play at that game. _

"And the poem that turned into the most successful Broadway production of all time?"

"The Naming of Cats," Rolo pipes up again, smiling that all-knowing smile Lelouch is coming to know him by.

"Excellent."

Suzaku looks at his phone frequently, but the professor hasn't made his next move in their erotic game; in fact, he seems more interested in quizzing Rolo, the never-ending cornucopia of suck-up.

"Professor Lamperouge," said suck-up finally says, "What's your fascination with Eliot? Is it his theatric use of language, or the subject matter?"

Lelouch's face breaks into curiosity. "The language. You read Eliot?" It's rare for a student to care for Literature as an extracurricular; this is what diverts him from his pocket, for the moment.

"Often." Rolo smiles at Lelouch in a way that makes Suzaku's blood heat just a smidgen; he taps his finger subconsciously against the edge of the desk, _answer me. Forget that prick. Answer me._ He knows he's overreacting only because he wants a reply, but that doesn't make him less eager for Rolo to shut up and go back through his notes, committing useless things to memory.

"That's refreshing. Another fan of Eliot in my afternoon class. I wasn't expecting that." Lelouch nods to him with a cordial smile and moves to sit at his own desk. "The rest of you, study your notes again. Good job, Mr. Haliburton."

Suzaku's phone shocks him up; having been sold on the idea Lelouch had dropped the conversation, he'd dipped his chin into his hand. **Now, Suzaku. Don't turn this into a battle. I just meant to get you flustered, not competitive.**

**You succeeded in doing both.**

The conversation is cut short, here – because Rolo's hit him in the shoulder with another goddamn paper airplane.

His head whips around. "Yeah?" but his voice falls short when he sees the other boy gazing at Lelouch like a child admiring a sunset.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" he says reverently. "You don't come across a gem like that in Valencia."

Rivalz, who has been scrawling A List of Pranks to Pull on My RA Before the End of Freshman Year, feels his ears perk up. Looking over, he sees Suzaku has frozen. "Aw, come on, Professor Lamperouge? He's taken," he fabricates, trying to help his iceberg of a best friend.

"Taken or not," Rolo says breezily, "He's gorgeous." (2)

**Did I? I'm proud of myself. Now… how do I get you hard from over here? **"I've met his girlfriend," Suzaku continues, his voice rather flat, "she's hot as hell." He winces inwardly at his vulgar declaration of lust for his lover's pretend girlfriend. "Good luck hedging that one." He resists the urge to punch Rolo in the face; one hit would have him out cold.

Rolo's eyes swivel to Suzaku. "You've met her? Are you friends with the Professor?"

"Sort of." **You're smart. Figure it out. **His reply comes across rather clipped; Rolo would never have a chance with Lelouch, because he's not – he's not – Suzaku grinds his back teeth together. "He knows my family." He spouts off the same lie he used with the Dean; but here, it takes; Rolo's fawn eyebrows shoot up.

Rolo casts another lascivicious gaze Lelouch's way; the older sorts through his filing cabinet, whistling lightly. "I just can't get over it. He's perfect."

Suzaku rolls his eyes. "Again, he's one of those guys you just can't turn."

"How would you know? Have you tried?" Rolo's eyes twinkle.

Rivalz, his guardian angel, cuts across, "It's a well-known fact. Some people are just straight, you know? No changing it."

His insides starting to relax a little, Suzaku turns back around, thinking about how childish he's being. Only girls get jealous like this; besides, Lelouch wants _him_, not some arrogant upper crust four-foot-tall suck-up from Valencia University, wherever that is. Isn't _he _the one Lelouch is… well, _sexting? _He almost laughs at the phrase they advocated so strongly against when he was in high school, that he's now actively participating in with none other than his university professor, of all people.

Lelouch's voice pulls him from his reverie. "Well, I suppose I have nothing else for you. Class dismissed."

Amid the never-ending lines of exiting students, Suzaku spots Kallen; she glares and leaves more quickly, leaving him confused again. Nonetheless he's about to be alone with Lelouch – he wonders just how much he'll be willing to do in his classroom –

"What's your favorite piece of Eliot's?"

His blood boils.

The raven-haired male thinks that over. "The Hollow Men," he finally replies, wetting his finger to turn a page. "I have a complete collection of his poems. That page has been folded over so many times it's a wonder it hasn't fallen out yet." Much too purple eyes follow the floor until they reach Suzaku, leaning against the doorjamb with a scowl on his usually so cheerful face. "Suzaku, is there something bothering you?" he asks.

Rolo looks back at him, too. "Oh, hi Suzaku. I didn't see you there."

"I was just wondering," Suzaku says, "when we were going to finish our talk, Professor." It's the first time in a while he's called Lelouch by that title (since he usually doesn't speak up in class, considering they mostly stare at each other).

"Our talk. Right." Lelouch smiles tersely, meeting Rolo's insistent gaze. "Well, anyway, welcome to Pendragon, Mr. Haliburton. Like I said before it's wonderful to have a student who –"

"Professor," Rolo interrupts, "Suzaku and I are friends. I can hang around."

Suzaku gives him a '_we are most certainly not friends' _look, but receives a smile in response. "Professor," he says with some difficulty, "It's about my… grades."

Lelouch sends an apologetic look his lover's way. "They _have _picked up, so there's no need for concern. Do you want to continue with your tutoring, or…?" this portion of the conversation is strictly for Rolo's sake, but Suzaku feels they could have done without it anyway, because –

Well, because: "You tutor your students personally, Professor? That's very philanthropic of you. I can help you out with that if you ever come across someone particularly difficult to teach."

"Thank you for your offer, Rolo," Lelouch starts politely, "but I think my own tutelage is more than enough when it comes to Suzaku. He's very bright."

The new student casts a look at the brunet, who's walked up to the desk, unable to take the distance any longer. "I can tell," he says, offhandedly.

Suzaku and Lelouch lock eyes again but the older quickly breaks the gaze, trying not to arouse suspicion.

Rolo speaks again. "If you want, Suzaku, could you please show me where…" he plucks the schedule out of his pocket again, "…Nester Hall is? Apparently that's where I'm living." And shamrock meets violet again, more pressure this time. "This campus is really big, after all."

"Yes, Suzaku, you should show him. Nothing like being kind to a fellow student," Lelouch says, his voice a bit strained. Being a good professor really puts a hold on his sex life. "Go on, now, before the rain gets worse." He waves them off, his heart heavy as Suzaku walks slowly to the door, as disappointed to be leaving, as he is to see him go.

Luckily for Suzaku, there's a map of the campus outside each lecture hall and conference building, set up on a large glass sign. "Nester's just a few blocks away. Turn right on Yardman and there should be a cluster of oak trees. Go through them and there should be a sidewalk. Nester's right ahead." He follows the route with his finger, watching Rolo's limpid eyes follow it. "Okay?"

"Aren't you going to walk me there?" he presses. "Like the Professor said –"

"I really have to get back in," Suzaku gestures to the falling rain. "Lelouch has a few lessons to teach me, you know, conjugation and stuff. I really don't get it."

Rolo tilts his head. "You and Professor Lamperouge are on first name terms?"

_Fuck. _"I knew him before I went here… family friend and all. I don't usually call him that, it just sort of…"

"Slipped out." Rolo smiles, turning in the direction that will take him to Yardman while adjusting his bag. "I understand. I'll see you later, Suzaku."

The brunet stares after him, droplets of rain darkening his hair. The new student gets under his skin on an almost inhuman level and that fact bothers him even more; exasperated, he opens his crooked umbrella and goes back to the Saffron Building.

He opens Lelouch's door with as little force as he can, which is just short of breaking it in half. The older looks up, his ebony hair messy. "You came back," he says with a relieved breath, a smile gracing his tired mouth. "Good. I was worried you'd actually walked him there."

"I don't think Rolo and I are going to get along very well. I had Rivalz tell him you were straight."

Lelouch chuckles. "That's probably a good idea." He was unable to make any real assessment of the Haliburton boy with Suzaku in the room; it's a wonder he's ever able to work in his presence. "Should I start taking C.C. places with me, or…?" His eyelids slip down. "I take it you want me to shut up now?"

Suzaku pulls up a metal chair, sitting it next to Lelouch's. His eyes shift to the window, where he watches Pendragon get pelted with rain. "You know," he says softly. "I never thought we'd wind up like this."

Taken aback by the sudden emotional turn the conversation has gravitated into, Lelouch murmurs, "Like what?"

He rubs his tennis-shoed feet together, staring at them. He isn't in the mood for arguing but something tells him Lelouch won't mind what he's about to say."Well… I thought you'd leave as soon as… well, you know."

For a moment, Lelouch is quiet. "I'll admit I've done that to other people before," he confesses. "But you have to believe me when I say I won't do that to you."

"I know." Suzaku pulls his sleeves back down; it is rather cold in here, after all. "I'm glad."

"And the only reason I did that to anyone was because I—I've never really been—loving you is something I can't—"

_Don't. _A hand stops him, sudden and warm. "Stop. We don't have to analyze it anymore. Why can't you just let things be nice?"

Violet eyes soften at the sight of their hands together that way, and the devotion in Suzaku's eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry." The rain washes down the windows in a waterfall, thunder crashing and trees twisting in the wind; they sit, spectators to the storm's destructive beauty. It _is_ nice, this silence; expecting nothing out of each other but a lover's company, and basking in the ambience of flickering classroom lights; Lelouch worries that the power will go out, but it never quite does, the light waxing and waning, dying them darker shades before lightening bleaches them again.

He feels it all fading away; his worries about Rolo, the apprehension about Lelouch's sickness, his own childish insecurities—it all just melts off him, dropping more quickly than the rain outside. Nothing can spoil his conscience now, not with this peaceful existence here in these mismatched chairs beside this charming man, whose always-expressive eyes gaze raptly at the storm-ridden horizon.

The young Kururugi breathes in, then out; lightening shocks across the room, silent but surprising to them both, and Lelouch smiles as the thunder intensifies. Only Suzaku can keep from analyzing things; only Suzaku can make him want to damn the entire process of analysis to hell. He tightens his grip round his hand and their eyes meet; and he's greeted with a look so powerful he nearly jumps out of his skin. It's as if Suzaku channeled all of his feelings into this single smoldering expression.

Lelouch smiles back. Thunder crashes and Suzaku jumps; they laugh, a soft velvet and a boyish chuckle.

(I don't _want_ to let go of you.)

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

…and Suzaku has another misguided idea that everything is going to work out. Silly, naïve Suzaku. There's more to Lulu than you think~

(1) The song Suzaku and Lelouch dance to is _Eyes, _by Rogue Wave. I'd recommend looking it up, it's lovely.  
(2) YES I'M AWARE OF HOW OOC ROLO IS, IT WAS INTENTIONAL.

Those things aside, how did you like the chapter? Again I'm suuuuper sorry I made you wait so long for it – life is so annoying sometimes when you're trying to schedule it in conjunction with your yaoi fanfiction :'D I just realized how effed up that sounds. Whatever.

Two sex scenes in this one, because I wanted to please both seme!lulu and seme!suzu supporters. (And myself. Because they're just so _fun_ to write.) Yeah, I know I could've done it in separate chapters, but hey, consider it a gift to you c:

To clear stuff up concerning the story,

I know certain events have been rushed lately, but Violetta is an anomaly among my stories in that it adheres to real-life timelines – nothing is on time and often everything is too fast-paced to make any sense. A lot of the miscellaneous things going on tie together later on, not exactly in ways you'd expect, either.

And yes, our dear fucked-up friend Lelouch is very much taking advantage of Suzaku, this much is very clear. However, I still don't think he understands the error of his ways, (considering he's deluding himself into thinking he feels certain things for the first time ever, etc., the last scene of this chapter being an example) and of course, dear Suzaku is sexually confused and impulsive, as a good deal of people his age are. Their perspectives sugarcoat things quite a bit, but in future chapters all the realities will be laid bare.

Anyway, about the next chapter. I plan for it to be more intense than this one by way of drama, specifically pertaining to Rolo. Oh, how I've always hated him. I was never a huge fan of Euphemia either though I certainly liked her more than him. Ugh. Rolo. :/ And, Suzaku will pay a visit to someone we'd never expect him to.

On another note, props to my poor Beta. I can't imagine how she can go through these long ass chapters and pick out every single error, but she hasn't failed me yet c: LTL, without you Violetta would be a gnarled, ugly mess with no direction. (With you, it just has no direction, but that one's on me ._.).

Reviews, guys! Let's at _least _reach 85! For me?

My horribly long author's note will come to an end here. Happy holidays!


	8. so you question yourself again

_I dare to find, that love deep inside__  
__There's no one around, to see me crying_

_**Violetta, 8**_

It takes a while for his eyes to open that morning; perhaps because the light through the un-curtained hotel room window is so _annoyingly _bright, or perhaps because he doesn't want to let go of the rather pleasurable dream he's been having. As always, the memory is hazy but this time he distinctly remembers that it had something to do with Lelouch and a sailor outfit.

Turning to his left, he sees the dark-haired professor, his arm bent up behind his head in sleep, looking distantly troubled as always. Thinking on it, Suzaku decides maybe he dreams of quadratic formulas or worse, symbolism. Smiling a bit at that, the brunet shimmies to the right, adjusting his overlarge shirt as his feet hit the spongy white carpet.

The constantly-vigilant man he just left is suddenly very alert, his voice quick and clear. "Come back to bed," he says, shoving his bare arm out to grasp the younger's pillow as if this will serve to bring him back. "It's damn cold."

A happy heat wringing down his chest, Suzaku just smiles, continuing on to get the coffee he's planned on making. "You could get dressed, that might help."

"I don't think I can make the effort." With that, Lelouch shoves Suzaku's abandoned pillow over his own face, groaning heavily and flinging one of his legs out. "When exactly did we go to bed?"

"Pretty early." Moreover, to his intense surprise, Suzaku can't recall them sleeping together as was the original purpose of checking into this little motel. Lelouch had just laid there, looking at the vaporous night sky, telling him offhand things about his motley students and his worries about Nunnally's upcoming Christmas gift, and how he doesn't know if she's too old for certain things. In a very acute way Suzaku had enjoyed it; it wasn't often that Lelouch expressed any apprehension or worry about anything, and he couldn't have been happier that he was the one to hear his overly dramatic monologues.

The Brittanian says, "I am _not_looking forward to teaching your idiot peers for three hours. Maybe I can just assign you some arbitrary paper and have peace for a week?"

"Maybe." Sipping his cruddy instant coffee Suzaku sits Indian-style on the bed, watching Lelouch's long fingers dance inattentively along the lining of the pillow. "But you might have to get a little more creative than that. Rolo will get a thesis done in fifteen minutes flat." With a snort, he thinks of the fawn-haired annoyance, who, come to find, lives _between _he and Lelouch at Nester. His classmate would definitely unearth some of his anger problems if it weren't for the wonderfully obvious fact that nobody likes him.

Lelouch moves around a bit more before repeating Suzaku's path to the coffeemaker, his black jeans rumpled and inadvertently pushed down, the sharp-as-blades pubic bones just barely visible. The brunet finds him a remarkable sight, shirtless in those dark trousers, while he himself is dressed rather virginally in a long shirt and striped pajama bottoms. "We need to start bringing our own coffee," he laments, staring hatefully at the instant form before him. "This garbage won't keep me on par past noon."

Suzaku pulls a pretzel from the bag on the bedside table and crunches it, his mouth twitching from the saline shock. "You can buy some on the way," he offers.

Lelouch sniffs; that's so obvious, how could Suzaku have thought of it before him? "We have three hours to kill until my class. How about I drive you to your first—"

"I'm skipping Gottwald," Suzaku says rather firmly. At Lelouch's questioning look he explains, "Exam review."

While he's never witnessed his lover care about his schoolwork before, it still disappoints Lelouch that he ignores it so effortlessly. Then again, lamenting any laziness on his part would just be another way of the pot calling the kettle black, as he lazed about for the majority of his schooling as well. "Ah. Well." He dumps the offending coffee down the tiny steel sink. "What can we do to kill three hours?"

Suzaku mock-contemplates. "We could play Life." His sun-brightened eyes follow Lelouch as he climbs catlike onto the small bed, a fallow shine in his swiftly darkening violets as he positions himself between warm legs. "Or that. That's fine too…"`

"Mm." Lelouch tilted his head and kissed him. "Good choice."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Lelouch's violets slide rhythmically across the keyboard; a gaze that may be perceived as lazy is merely one steeped in thought.

He's perched on the tiny piano chair, his long legs bent under him as he extends his hands to the monochromatic keys in front of him. Slowly he plays, watching his sister's head swivel to follow the sounds, her lips pressed together. Unease takes hold of his heart and squeezes it hard, because his brothers have made no moves to withdraw their request for a custody hearing, and orders could be called to have her taken from his care any day. It's painfully clear as he sits here with her how easily she could be gone.

And that's why he plans to play this damn piano with her every day, until she's gotten it perfect. It's hard to salvage any other time with her, the majority of it being eaten up by work and otherwise monopolized by Suzaku, bless his soul. He has never once heard her complain but of course she wouldn't—she's always been so sensitive to her brother, and what he does and doesn't want to hear, adjusting the subjects she discusses to keep him at ease. Sometimes Lelouch wishes she would bring things up—because the spectrum of conversation is so goddamn narrow it never really expands beyond small talk.

Irritation knits at his sister's brow as the slowly mimics that string of keys, aided by her brother's guiding hands. Repetition, he'd told her, would be the best way to do it. She hits the wrong one and the tune falters; her frown intensifies but she says nothing, merely moving with him to start again.

Gently, he gives her advice; to go slowly, to keep her hands poised, things like that. C.C. looks on from the doorway with an uncharacteristic smile, clutching a cup of hot chocolate in her hands as she experiences the more tender side of her old friend.

It really is rare to see him like this, with no motive rather than to please Nunnally, which was his only motive before college had turned him into the boy-chasing player he is. She's always been more like his daughter than his sister after all, with his die-hard ambition to protect her virtue, which has never really been under any jeopardy anyway. She never goes anywhere other than to tutoring, really, though every once and a while C.C. resolves the matter by taking her out for ice cream.

A few days ago, while they were out enjoying the sugary confection, Nunnally had talked at length about how she liked to feel the sunshine on her skin, and how she wished Lelouch was there to feel it, too. It had struck something within the green-haired woman she didn't have a name for—but she supposes it wasn't unlike the feeling the Grinch got when his heart grew thanks to the people of Whoville.

If she couldn't see it in their faces, C.C. would seriously doubt there being any relation between the soft-voiced beacon of happiness and her boy-chasing devil of a brother.

"Now, the chord progressions are three keys apart," Lelouch explains lowly, demonstrating only with his own hand. The pitch climbs, indeed, every three hits. "You have to make sure you count them when you first start, though as you go on it'll get easier."

"Like this?" Nunnally mimics him a bit shakily, knocking a stray key or two but overall understanding the concept.

"Exactly like that." Violet eyes flick over to notice C.C. leaning against the doorjamb; he presses his lips together, preparing to lecture the green-haired woman in front of him. "Nunnally, do you mind if we take a break for a little while?"

"Hi, C.C.!" she calls effervescently, noticing her with that sixth sense induced by her blindness. "I'm kind of tired, anyway," she says to her brother, who promptly hoists her up and carries her to her wheelchair. Once in it, she rolls away without hesitation, probably to go fold more of those cranes she said she's collecting now. He looks after her for a moment, concerned; when exactly did she get so independent?

Regardless, he's now alone with C.C., his expression hardening a bit once Nunnally is out of earshot.

"What're you doing here?" he asks bluntly, his face impassive.

"I drove over. Since you kicked me out of your dorm, I've been rather bored." The expression she returns, however, is playful; he rolls his eyes and she continues, "It's nice to see you caring about someone other than yourself, though. And without any clue I'd be here. It must be genuine."

Frigidly, Lelouch replies, "I do care about others, thank you." He strides into the kitchen, where a box of pizza sits faintly steaming, and resists the urge to wretch. "Did you buy this yourself?" At his disbelieving tone she smiles crookedly as if to say _of course not; _knowing her she probably bribed the pizza boy, or what have you. "I am glad you're here. I was going to have to hire someone to watch Nunnally."

Apple brows crook upward. "Do you have a date with your latest project?"

"With Suzaku," he quips, surprising her a bit. "Which I've been meaning to talk to you about. I know it isn't like me, and it's most likely impossible for you to believe… but I think I'm developing _feelings_for him." With that his gaze flies out the window, avoiding C.C.'s incredulous stare. "Frankly I wonder if they're genuine or not. I'm never too sure."

"What makes him different from the others?" she asks softly, mellifluously, without any sort of conviction; it's just a question, one that happens to confuse the hell out of him.

She watches Lelouch's aristocratic face grow strained. "I couldn't explain it to you if I tried. He's… he worries about me, he gets possessive of me… he gets upset when he can't see me…"

"So he loves you." Immediately, their eyes meet. "They've loved you before. Told you, even. Then again, what do I know. It's probably one of those unexplainable things, like you said. The heart wants what it wants."

He supposes Suzaku may love him; it's certainly not impossible, what with the way those forest eyes look upon him so adoringly, and the way he grows feverish whenever Lelouch says his name. What's more is Suzaku's devotion to him, clear in the angling of his body when they walk together, the guise of nonchalance he tries to wear whenever the older flirts with him, but fails miserably. It's a powerful thing, Suzaku loving him, and he isn't quite sure how it makes him feel. "Why wouldn't he have told me?"

Golden eyes flicker. "Maybe he's worried you don't feel the same way. Or that it'll take all the fun out of things if he shows you how much he cares. Those conflicted types are always really bad at voicing their emotions. You would know."

He frowns at her, but without much sincerity, too busy brooding over his lover's supposed feelings. _Supposed _reinforcing the fact that it probably isn't true, mere speculation between himself and C.C. "I don't think it's been long enough for that."

"Time doesn't mean anything when it comes to love," she says sharply. "You can love someone in a day, a week, or it could take years. It just depends."

"Thank you for confusing me even further." Lelouch pulls a glass from the cabinet, popping open a wine bottle and pouring himself a drink. "Of all things you could actually be wise about, why did it have to be _love_?"

"I thought you didn't believe in it," C.C. reminds him sagely, lifting herself onto the counter to drink shamelessly from the bottle.

"I don't."

A cross look later and they are both quiet; he sipping from his glass and she from her bottle, both with different things on the brain.

.,.,.,.,.,..,

Rolo opens his door, finding the handle sticks a little. He frowns rather strongly, jimmying it until it finally returns to its original position. Shoddy schools like these never paid any attention to the little things. Nevertheless, he supposes he should've expected that when choosing schools. He slips that annoying room key in his pocket and starts off down the hallway, inhaling deep to smell his own cologne and a distinct aroma like vanilla, perhaps a bit of spice.

The source of that smell enters his line of vision, and his lips curl when he sees him, Professor Lamperouge, coming out of—

"Professor," he says rather rudely, and Professor Lamperouge takes a moment to size him up before figuring out whom he is.

"Oh, hello, Rolo," he says jovially. Today he's dressed in a deep violet button-down and black blazer, his matching tie a bit crooked. "You should be getting to class. Lateness is not a virtue." A smile intended to be nothing more than polite is interpreted as flirtatious; but for now Rolo has other things on the brain.

"Were you just tutoring Suzaku?" he asks, the name rolling of his tongue with acid he hopes he imagined.

The surprise that flits across the Professor's face causes him to frown. "Ah, well, he forgot one of his textbooks in my classroom. I was returning it to him." His smile is uneasy, slightly crooked, but thankfully, Rolo is too lost in plussed pools of violet to notice. "Suzaku's very impulsive, you see. Well, I must be getting along. And so should you."

Rolo watches his retreating back, twines of desperation cutting through him. "Wait."

Lelouch stops, turning his head to present his sharp profile. "Yes?"

Donning his best martyr face, Rolo says, "I don't have a way to get there, my car…broke down." Of course, his car is parked on the smaller end of the lot, but the Professor doesn't know that.

Debating it, the older male sighs. "All right. But only this once. I'm not supposed to give students rides." His mind flits to Suzaku and he wonders briefly how exactly the brunet is planning on getting to the Saffron Building, but then again he does have Rivalz. "Hurry."

Falling into step behind him, Rolo watches the Professor's graceful walk, the way he hurries with a gentle speed, looking slightly conflicted as he does. Rolo supposes he should feel bad for inconveniencing him, but he doesn't. Any opportunity to spend time with Professor Lamperouge is a precious gift; a gift he plans to use to his advantage.

The Professor's vehicle is leather inside, emanating that new-car smell. The front seat is reclined to accommodate Lelouch's height, and the passenger side is nearly identical. He wonders how many times Suzaku has been in here. "What made you decide to teach Literature?" he asks softly as the car starts.

"Personal preference," he replies, looking a bit harried but not displeased. After all the life of a college professor must be a hectic one. "However I would've liked to have taught a class with students who actually work."

Rolo laughs; it's a hard, sharp noise. "Not everyone can be like me, Professor."

The older's gaze flicks peripherally to his. They share a smile. "Yes, you probably have the highest marks in my class. I appreciate your effort."

_That's it? _"Good to hear." Rolo's eyes wander, as they have a tendency to; he lingers on the Professor's crotch. "Do you tutor many students?"

Lelouch shifts gears as he leaves the lot, looking behind him for other cars. "No, just Suzaku."

Rolo's eyes flare; or maybe that was just a trick of the light. "Why's that?" His mind is wrought with images of them fucking over a desk, Suzaku panting and whining like some flat-chested female.

"He's the only one who asked," Professor Lamperouge says simply, his turn signal clicking. "And thank goodness he did. He's really been improving. I'd probably tutor more but there's only so much you can do. One-on-one is always best."

"Indeed." Role flicks at his fingernail, his mind rationalizing and trying to figure out Suzaku Kururugi, that boyish-looking Eleven who, despite what Rolo may feel against him, has a nice ass. But what on _earth _would attract Professor Lamperouge, poetic and elegant Professor Lamperouge, to an educationally-impaired ruffian like him? "His Brittanian is very good, don't you think?"

Confused by that segue, the Professor says, "He's lived in this country for a long time."

"He seems to be rather attached to you." He looks back on Suzaku's angry expression upon his imposing on their time together, and his rush to get back to the classroom without even attempting to walk him to Nester.

Lelouch breathes. "He's a very nice young man. We're friends," he explains, as they pull into Saffron. "Well, here we are." He hoists a briefcase out of the backseat and pulls the keys from the ignition, tipping his head to Rolo in a polite gesture of goodbye.

Inside Saffron a handful of Lamperouge's female admirers titter happily to him, taking his vague responses as something akin to contact with the gods. Upon entrance to the classroom, everyone else is already here; Rolo sidles through the gaggles of chattering students to sit in his second-row chair, pulling out his notebook and poising his pen for notes. He sees Suzaku and Rivalz laughing about something and feels his eyebrows contort.

"Settle down, and take your seats." The Professor dons his glasses and pulls down his projector sheet, flipping on the device and revealing detailed notes about the significance of line breaks and punctuation pertaining to different writers' poetry.

In front of him, Suzaku dubiously takes everything down, his brown head dipping as he scribbles. Languidly Rolo watches him, his small fingers tapping softly against the surface of his own desk. With a jolt he realizes he hasn't written any of it down—and once he starts to, Lelouch fires into a lecture, surprisingly on-point and seamlessly expanding each point he typed up, talking with his hands. He jokes offhandedly and the students around Rolo let out relaxed laughter.

He himself looks up and tries to meet the Professor's eye, but he's too busy talking to even give him any attention. So he just takes the notes he missed and then stares them down, trying to commit them to memory.

Whenever Lelouch tells them he's done for the day, Suzaku and Rivalz start to talk to one another in short, hissing whispers. Suzaku says something rather dry and Rivalz laughs.

He pokes the Japanese boy in the shoulder.

"Yeah?" To his surprise, Suzaku is smiling when their eyes meet.

Rolo searches through his brain for small talk. "How's the tutoring going?"

Suzaku frowns, confused. "Fine, I guess. Why do you ask?" Rivalz is looking up at him, too, a bit anxious. He appraises their dramatically different faces for a second.

"I was wondering," he pauses, wetting his lips, "If he could tutor me, too. How would I go about asking?"

Slowly the Eleven's face reflects his derision—it's clear he's working not to let it show. "Like you'd ask him anything else, I guess."

"But you're… _close_with him… wouldn't it be better if you asked him for me?"

"Close?" Suzaku's eyes flitted about. "I wouldn't say we're _close_, but I don't see why that'll be a problem." He smiles and he hopes it didn't come out as edgy as he thought it would. Why the hell would Rolo want to be tutored by Lelouch? That is, unless— "Fair warning. He's pretty tough." He notes Suzaku's Japanese twang, soft and faded but still very much intact, as the other boy skirts around telling him off. Of course, he won't; he can't.

"I can handle it." Their eyes lock, however not in any way forebodingly. Suzaku merely looks at him with those lurid eyes, perhaps trying to figure him out. "What hours does he teach you?"

"Usually Saturdays…" Suzaku's sure he must look guilty now, sweating as he is. Rolo the all-knowing all but confirms his suspicions, sitting contemptuously above him with that priggish look on his face.

"Good. I'm usually free then." Rolo decides right then and there that he's going to ditch his sister's violin recital, however much his family's been doggedly begging him to come to it. She isn't that good anyway. "Please do have a talk with him about it."

"Sure," Suzaku says rather flatly, turning back around to glare at the hardwood floor. Rivalz, noticing his discomfort, scrawls a note: **Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be fine. Nobody likes Rolo anyway, you said if yourself.**

_What I say and how I feel are different, sometimes._

**What're you so worried about? It's pretty clear Lelouch likes you and not him, besides aren't you going over to his house tonight?**

_That isn't the point, Rolo's smart and Lelouch is smart. I'm, average, at best._

**Aw, don't be so hard on yourself. You're plenty smart. And smart really doesn't matter when it comes to love.**

_You sound like Milly. And who said anything about love? _He shoves the note back with a bit too much force this time, causing it to fall ungraciously to the floor. Rivalz scoops it up, eyeing his friend's defensive face.

**I'm just saying. You wouldn't be so jealous if you didn't love the guy.**

_I'm not jealous. I'm just annoyed._

**Whatever you say, bud.**

Suzaku taps his foot rather anxiously, willing Father Time to speed things up so he can go sit peacefully in his dorm and wait for sleep until five. Screw Rivalz, he's not jealous. Jealousy would imply that he _cares_. Cares about what certainly isn't going on between Lelouch and that stupid brat, who overall isn't even attractive. Jealousy would imply that he feels a personal loss at the idea of Lelouch wanting to be with someone else—

Okay, that part is true, who is he kidding. But _Rolo?_

**"**Suzaku," calls Lelouch's voice, and that mop of brown shoots up to meet that colorful gaze. "May I speak to you in my office for a minute?"

His nose crinkling, Rolo notices Suzaku can't get up fast enough, but no one else seems to. Professor Lamperouge tips open the door and they disappear inside—but why did he have to shut it?

Suzaku is pushed against the wall and allows him to be held there as Lelouch rewards him with a searing kiss, his deep sigh echoing into Suzaku's mouth. When they separate he says, "Come over tonight."

Unable to refuse, the young Kururugi nods, "What time."

"I'll come and get you at five," the Professor promises. "And don't wear anything… complicated." His hands slip under gray cotton to press flush against Suzaku's abs; the boy shudders 'I-I won't' and tips his head back. But the hands disappear.

Blearily, his eyes open. "That's it?"

"Rome wasn't built in a day, my dear." He opens the door and Suzaku walks out, his head spinning, back to the crowd of mostly sleeping students, anticipating the evening ahead as well as remembering fondly those last two words, _my dear._

His mouth is dry as he opens his notebook and pretends to study the scribbles he took down earlier; but really, green eyes keep flicking to the Professor, who actually appears to be working, then again, he's a practiced actor. Suzaku knows Professor shares his tawdry thoughts within that glossy black head, but does he linger on them as long as the brunet does? And with as much regularity? He swallows again and it really is imperative that he gets some water soon, unable to recall the last time he was this dehydrated.

Idly, he thinks of ways to try and kill time between now and five o'clock; study? No, that's not progressive enough (in his eyes, anyway). Mind blank, he stretches his arms out—and sees that they've lost definition.

A trip to the gym is in order.

He asks Rivalz if he'll come with him, and the bluenette says he will, though he may be a little late since he has to take Poncho (that is the strange name he's given his little vehicle) through the car wash. They decide on four and then Suzaku returns to looking over the notes.

It's going to be a long day.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

"Holy…fuck." Rivalz huffs, his voice a pathetic wheeze, "I didn't think it'd hurt so bad after so long." He massages his throbbing arms and meets Suzaku's eyes as the other continues to bench inhuman weights. He snorts. "Showoff."

"I'm just worried about losing it," he replies, letting go of the handles and moving up to sit. "Do you think I could get fat really fast?"

"Nah." Rivalz swigs water. "You have high metabolism. Me, on the other hand…" he purposely avoids looking at the snack machine so precariously placed near the edge of the gym. Why do they have one of those in here anyway? "I should buy some pills off of Clovis. I hear he's got a whole bunch of stuff for ADHD."

"Not surprising." While he's come to like Clovis more lately Suzaku wouldn't put a little Adderall-peddling above his eccentric roommate. "So, any luck with Shirley yet?"

"Not in the least," Rivalz replies flatly, sighing as he sits with a heavy thump on a bench near Suzaku. "I think she likes somebody else."

"Like who?"

"Like Gino Weinberg," the name falls from his lips with an unconcealed air of disgust. "You know who he is?"

"He's my RA." Suzaku wonders if this trend of Shirley liking men who are smitten with him will continue for much longer, and he certainly hopes not. "He's a nice guy. Sort of."

Rivalz scratches at his scalp. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I was working on finding a new girl. What about you—oh, right. Lelouch. What's been up with him?"

"He's getting me from Nester at 5." He checks his watch; only four fifteen. Hrm. "I think he'd be a lot less stressed out with Rolo hanging around."

"Him or you?" At the look Suzaku gives him in response, Rivalz shrinks back a little. "Fine… I think he's annoying too." And that's the truth; Suzaku's been through enough without some snooty little brat trying to take something else away from him. "But come on, he doesn't have a chance. Suzaku, seriously."

"Yeah." Suzaku picks up a pair of weights. "You're right."

Feeling it's best to change the subject, Rivalz puts out, "Hey, I think I want to start a band."

A weird look. "You can't play any instruments."

"Not true. I have a guitar. I'm going to learn."

"Say you do start a band." Suzaku sighs. "Who do you expect to be in it with you?"

"I was banking on Shirley," the bluenette mutters sourly. "But I'm sure I could find somebody. There's probably scores of musicians here."

"Artsy types," Suzaku generalizes. "Go and hang around in the Theater Department."

"Yeah. Imagine. Me, a rock star."

The other sighs again. "I don't think you're really cut out for that kind of thing."

"The motivational speaker on our last day of high school, you remember him? He said if you can dream it, you can do it—don't give me that look!"

Suzaku puts the weights down, his biceps screaming from being deprived of exercise for so long. He pulls his sweatband off his head. "I guess you're right, it just sounds kind of unrealistic." When the water hits his throat it's as if he's standing at the gates of heaven; an athlete really shouldn't be this dehydrated. "Maybe you could play in coffee shops or something, until people started knowing who you were. A city like this is perfect."

Most of the time, Rivalz's far-fetched aspirations annoy Suzaku; but for now, it's nice to talk to his friend, who he really hasn't seen as much lately. Their schedules have been pulled taut by Lelouch and schoolwork respectively. "Hey, do you still want to go to the Starlight Festival next Saturday?"

Rivalz shrugs. "I don't know. Nothing goes on there besides girls rejecting me."

True; the bluenette doesn't have much luck in the relationship department on a good day, let alone on one where they're surrounded by strange girls. Last time they went Rivalz got mad at him for running off with Euphy and 'leaving him to suffer'. In the end, he'd wound up with popcorn for company. "It'll be different this time. I'll—I'll set you up with someone."

"No men," Rivalz huffs.

"I was thinking more like a girl from our Lit class. What do you think of Kallen?"

"I don't. She's too quiet. I want someone—I want someone who can sing in my band."

"You can't narrow it down like that," he sighs. "I'll find somebody, don't worry." And it really won't be that hard; regardless of his relationship status, Lelouch's class is full of cute girls, more than one of whom he's sure will suit Rivalz. "Hell, maybe you'll even get lucky."

Easy for Suzaku to say; he had Euphemia (who put all the other girls they knew to shame) for two years, and now he has Lelouch (who's single-handedly charmed probably everyone he's ever met). "Buddy," his best friend sighs. "Not everyone can be as lucky as you."

.,.,.,.,.,

Lelouch is looking somewhat casual when he picks him up, (around the back end of Nester, to avoid Gino's watchful eye) in a blue argyle sweater and khakis. The colors complement him, but the smile does more. "Hello again," he says through his lowered window, and despite being the sweaty mess he is, Suzaku feels as if for a moment, there's nothing but them. "Get in."

They talk offhandedly, Lelouch chattier than he usually is; he's talking about how his latest meeting with Dean Carlan went, and then he's laughing about something one of his colleagues said. Suzaku can do nothing more than sit there and beam, having never seen Lelouch look so happy in the whole time he's known him, those violet eyes glimmering with the promise of an evening that will be rewarding no matter what's ahead.

It's dark in the house; the older hasn't been here a in a while, however the plants do seem to have rejuvenated, or they've been replaced. He sits on the sofa as the older walks into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. "Well, I guess you listened to me."

Confusion. "Huh?"

"About the clothes. About not wearing anything that'll be difficult for me to remove." He follows Lelouch as the older climbs up the stairs, "Unless you forgot and this was entirely inadvertent."

Well, it was about half-true; Suzaku had harbored intent to change into something else after coming home from the gym, but then Lelouch had arrived early. "Yeah, it was."

"I was thinking." They reach the landing and Lelouch waits for him there. "We could go out instead."

His muscles are protesting even the _words_—Suzaku stares at him, waiting for a _never mind _or _I'm just kidding._"I… I really am tired," he hedges, his eyes falling desirously upon Lelouch's oh-so-soft and inviting bed.

"We can sleep, I suppose." Lelouch stares at his watch. "But you do know it's only 5'oclock, don't you?" He finally stops, turning to face Suzaku in the doorway.

"I know that." He lets out a breath and it seems like he's been holding it in all day, his chest taut. "I'm—I'm exhausted." And it's true in that he doesn't really want to talk anymore.

Maybe Lelouch senses this; he leans in, nestling his nose in the curve of that strong chin, touching his lips to the flesh that immediately gathers into goose bumps. Suzaku breathes out, shudders of air that don't go at all unnoticed.

"Hang on a few minutes. I have to shower." He walks into the bathroom, his legs protesting thanks to their rather vigorous workout earlier.

Lelouch's eyes gutter to him. "Didn't you just shower a few hours ago?"

"I went to the gym," Suzaku replies. Well, that would explain the sweats. "I've got to start working out more or I'm gonna wind up out of shape." He thinks of the dreaded Freshman 15 that a certain blue-haired Biology major is on the fast track to gaining, and pities him.

"We wouldn't want that," the older says absentmindedly, striding over to the mirror to remove his blazer.

Suzaku removes his shoes and socks, placing them trimly in the corner. "Hey, uh, I talked to Rolo earlier."

Frowning lightly, Lelouch remembers the diminutive young man's endless volley of questions pertaining to Suzaku. "And how did that go?"

A light sigh. "Well, he said that… he wanted you to tutor him." He pulls at his sweatshirt, jerking it up over his head a bit more violently than necessary at the thought of Rolo trying to impose on their relationship.

The frown intensifies. "Rolo is one of the smartest students in my class." The Professor watches indolently as Suzaku pulls his boxers down his hips, presenting him with the pert bottom that's come to dominate his daydreams. "It doesn't make any sense."

Suzaku turns on the shower and jumps at the glacial temperature, adjusting it to the suitable heat. "That's exactly it. I don't think he wants you to tutor him because he really needs help—"

"Oh. _Oh."_

Then Lelouch chortles.

"What's so funny?" Suzaku demands, glaring at him through the glass. "It's obvious he just wants to get in your pants."

Playfully, his older lover murmurs, "Are you threatened by Rolo, Suzaku?" he chuckles once more, toying with the idea of Suzaku harboring possessive joneses. To be sincere, it's damn cute.

"Ha." The brunet squirts shampoo into his hand. "Hardly." His shadowy laugh is magnified by the shower's acoustics. "Why would I be jealous of him?" Unknowingly, he's asking both himself as well as Lelouch, trying to formulate any real reason why he'd envy his classmate. His bothersome, stuffy, overconfident _short_ classmate, with about as much sex appeal as Rivalz in drag. (1) The answer should be simple, that he shouldn't be and _isn't _jealous, but the incongruity is summed up in his lover's next three words:

"You _are _jealous." He can't see Lelouch clearly through the condensation that's built up on the shower door, but come what may he knows he's smirking. "He's intelligent, he's refined… to be frank, he's everything you're not…"

His chest welling up, Suzaku refrains from further lathering his hair and lets the mixture leak down his forehead. To hear those truths aloud, particularly in Lelouch's most torturous voice, is a staid blow to him. "Well, why don't you just go be with him then," he says acidly, his hand snapping back to his side and his heat-flushed face turning hard.

"You didn't let me finish," Lelouch cuts rather roughly, his blurry self getting to its feet and disappearing from view. "He's intelligent, refined… everything you're not… and that is precisely why I don't want him."

"Lelouch." Suzaku's voice hedges gently, his voice growing heavy, "You can't toy with me like that…" but it's so very _Lelouch _to do just that; it's very Lelouch to trick and tease, then fix things in seconds.

It's very Lelouch to haul open the shower door and seize Suzaku, scrappily coupling their mouths and twisting those long lithe fingers through soaked russet hair. Suzaku freezes, momentarily staggered by his fully clothed lover's interruption of his sanitization ritual, but he's responding soon enough, his eyes slipping closed and his mouth curling to a smile, so perhaps the origin of this state of affairs doesn't matter.

The button's of Lelouch's shirt come apart in one easy movement, flying onto the ground behind him as he kicks off his shoes, thinking rather blearily about how difficult it is to undress himself while so fervently kissing Suzaku, whose wet head swivels to deepen it, water glistening at his eyelids and dripping down his cheeks—and speaking of cheeks…

He becomes aware of the other's hands groping and squeezing at his backside, the supple flesh bulging between his digits. Moaning loud enough to wake the departed, the brunet feels his toes curl against the shower floor, his tongue gaining zeal within Lelouch's mouth as heat winds through his lower body, causing him to grind his crotch into Lelouch's. He feels a finger prodding at his most sensitive place, and a breathless assertion of satisfaction later they're against the wall of the shower, rubbing their crotches and tongues together, legs spread wide.

"I…want… _you, "_Lelouch says tightly, certainly, once his mouth is liberated, to Suzaku's euphoric face. "Do you… understand?" he takes a rapacious breath and Suzaku nods, really past caring, shooting forward to detain his lips again and exploring more rampantly with his tasting organ, rubbing the roof of the other's mouth as his lower body jerks around. He's craving something other than this animalistic humping. Thankfully the other fists him roughly, the rosy tip of his erection visible with every stroke.

"Mm… ha…hnn," Suzaku tips his head back, his hips shooting up into Lelouch's eager fingers. The heat of the shower makes him feel marvelously woozy and yet at the same time, the smacking sounds beneath him are unusually loud. He doesn't have to see Lelouch to know that on the patrician face lays that barbed smile that exemplifies him every time he pleasures Suzaku, the mask that never fails to entice him. However this mask shatters when he feels a finger prodding at his most sensitive place—

And after that it's almost like they're racing, Suzaku slamming his fingers into Lelouch—and rather enjoying the way that pink hole twitches, so readily accepting him, "_You want this already, don't you?"_ —and Lelouch servicing him with both his hands, faltering every few moments to cry out unintelligible things, as that spot within him is repeatedly abused, but it isn't he who reaches the apex first.

As the electricity melds through his spine and threatens to wreck him, Suzaku whines, "Lelouch, I'm—I'm—!" and panicked he lets loose tiny fragments of the older male's name as if they will quell the pulsing, the harsh contractions of his stomach and the metallic taste in the back of his throat, one he's always tasted when he's just about to come. It makes him panic.

As he stands Lelouch murmurs a harsh and masculine order, "Hold it in," and taps his gathered length persistently against his adolescent lover's cheek.

His color high, Suzaku's hands coast down the length of his body to hold firm his engorged cock, yearning to stroke himself as he accepts Lelouch's in his mouth, training his gag reflex while looking up to his enraptured, perfect face. He works his throat around the balmy flesh and feels knees quaver against his shoulders. Lelouch's arms shoot to catch the sides of Suzaku's head, sucking in a toothy whimper as he cants his hips faster. His eardrums are an audience to the litany of moans that also vibrate through his cock, twisting and pulling at his stomach as if it were taffy, and lastly setting the foundations for that biting feeling in his side—

The brunet hums around his length, to which Lelouch responds with a rather ragged breath, and the brunet almost wants to surrender the grip he'd been ordered to undertake.

Eventually Lelouch's cock slides out from between his lips and is replaced by a tongue. He tastes like a mix of his own heady tang and coffee, as well as underlying hints of mint. Suzaku whines seedily, as if to remind Lelouch of his downstairs-predicament, and the older laughs harshly into his mouth, his thin arm bending to grab at Suzaku's hand against the bar. When he pulls away, "Let yourself go, Suzaku…"

At last, the brunet relinquishes his grasp on himself and comes hard, his knuckles flooding themselves pale as he throttles Lelouch's hand in his own.

For an immeasurable amount of time they lie there, Suzaku's back bent up against the wall of the shower, and Lelouch's stippled form draped over him. It isn't apparent who comes down first, but the Brittanian is first to verbalize his concerns, "Does your back hurt?"

His nose twisting a bit in its own corroboration, the brunet says evenly, "Yeah. Can we get up now?" He can't say it soon enough, and they get to their feet together, Lelouch's skin colored high and dappled from either the shower or their lovemaking, more likely both as he sucks in air to fill his deplorably unrefined lungs, perhaps the only parts of him that aren't always so damned self-possessed. Suzaku is in fact rather well recovered, opening the shower door and stepping over his discarded clothes to see himself in the mirror.

Lelouch's lofty voice, at last serene, crawls through the bathroom to query, "Bed?"

"I think that's a nice idea," Suzaku replies quietly, (since that had been his original intent) watching his lover meander into the closet for nightclothes. "I've got to tell you, Lelouch. You definitely aren't boring."

A tough fraction of a laugh. "You know me well." He steps into black banded bottoms, feeling he can't be bothered to find a shirt though scores of them are neatly folded behind him.

"Now you're going to get all bigheaded." The brunet strides across the room to his duffle bag, in which he has packed starchy sweatpants and a rather weighty sweatshirt for exercise. They'll work just as well for sleeping. "I wouldn't be able to stand you if I didn't like you so damn much."

The rough accolade warming the cockles of his mostly impassive heart, Lelouch presents Suzaku with a buoyant smirk as he passes him. "And I'd definitely hate you for your candid ignorance of the hundreds of reasons you single-handedly trump Rolo in any department."

Suzaku joins him in bed, and they lie unbothered atop the coverlet. "Well, looks, I guess. And I'm less of a prig than him."

Sooty lashes foist upward and Lelouch considers that approximation. "There's a lot you're missing. Sometimes I wonder if you really do need tutoring," he teases.

"Thanks." Suzaku turns over.

"Unlike Rolo," Lelouch begins, a lean hand drifting over to Suzaku's shoulder to haul him around onto his back once more, "You aren't yearning to agree with me, and you aren't trying to prove that you know everything. You, Suzaku Kururugi, are an incessantly persistent reminder that, despite its unfair conditions, the world is inerrably a nice place, though you don't seem to believe that yourself."

Suzaku's hesitant greens reflect some anonymous emotion. Finally, "How the hell do I remind you of that?"

"Well." Lelouch's insides seem to coagulate, as his mind is breaching unfamiliar territory when attempting to make verbal his reasons for being so enamored by Suzaku. "That a… young man like yourself, who… has been through so much… is somehow positive and doesn't judge people as readily as anyone else…" He bites his lip; surely, this formal jargon can't be having any effect on him whatsoever, let alone driving him to return the favor. "Someone as attractive as you—"

"For someone so smart," Suzaku chides, "You really suck at putting things into words. I hope your books aren't written like this." But he's smiling and it's apparent that somehow that unpredictable sequence of words _did_pervade his psyche, and Lelouch looks on him placidly for a moment just taking in how insightful and wise and enormously green-eyed he is. "So you're saying that you like how happy I am, and that I'm good to people, and that I'm cute."

"It sounds so simple when you say it that way." Condescension washes over Lelouch's thin features. "Apart from the point of this entire thing still stands—that you would even consider Rolo having even a _fraction_of the effect on me that you do, let alone the ridiculousness that I'd ever be attracted to him, is absurd." However that's not to say the envy doesn't set an inkling of pride in him, a corporeal feeling that only works to intensify his feelings for Suzaku rather than diminish them.

His young lover looks at him, his soft eyes motionless. "I just don't like him," he responds simply, looking back up the ceiling. "And he doesn't even _need _you to tutor him."

"I know that." He glowers pronouncedly at the idea of spending time with Rolo, but remembers that if he refuses to help the boy, he'll be in the Dean's office picking up his severance. "Hopefully I'll be able to figure out a way to drive him off."

Suzaku buries his face in Lelouch's neck and breathes in, smelling his damp, fragrant hair. "That won't be hard to do. People like that are pretty easy to figure out unlike you."

"A full three minutes went by with no insults… and then you ruined it."

However nothing more is said on that subject, since it's really pointless anyway and Lelouch is just too _exhausted_ to debate with him right now, and they lie there, Suzaku basking in the afterglow with menial thoughts of Lelouch's reassurance that Rolo really isn't so special, and he's not to be worried about him any longer. He finds it silly he ever worried in the first place. "Good night, Suzaku."

"It's only 6'oclock."

Lelouch moves off the bed and pulls back the navy-blue bedspread, under which Suzaku settles in rather reluctantly. He follows, tugging the boy to him. "Good night," he insists.

Despite his strong desire to continue the conversation, Suzaku decides the older definitely needs to recharge; weaklings will be weaklings. "Good night, Lelouch."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

"What's the half-life of uranium?"

Rivalz tips his glass, pouring more soda down his throat. "How the hell should I know? I told you I gave up studying."

Suzaku's lips pucker. "But exams are next week—"

"Who cares?" With that, Rivalz promptly whips Suzaku's textbook and study materials to the floor, watching as the other stares at them in shock. "Oh come on, you're telling me you woke me up at nine AM just to _study?_"

"Nine isn't that early," says Suzaku, dipping down to retrieve his wronged study guides and the already beat-up textbook he'd had to purchase secondhand.

"It is if you have a life." Shoving an unhealthy number of pork rinds in his mouth, Rivalz pads into the kitchen, wrenching open his stocked refrigerator presumably to decide with what he'll next be using to contribute to his clogged arteries. "Oh wait, I forgot! You do. Professor _Lamperouge," _he purrs, watching Suzaku's face break into an embarrassed grin. "How's that going anyway?"

"Fine. We had a talk last night. About Rolo."

"What's the verdict?"

Shortly dazed as he remembers their tryst in the shower, it takes the brunet a moment to compose himself. "He pretty much told me all the reasons why he likes me better. I'm really not worried about it anymore."

"So, d'you consider it… serious yet?" if the looks on Suzaku's face lately have been any indication, he does; but then again Suzaku has always been a bit odd.

"Define serious."

"Are you… dating?"

"We don't go on dates much anymore. He's been busy." Increasingly often, Suzaku has fleeting thoughts of burning Lelouch's grade book. "But he told me I'm the only one he's with. That means something, doesn't it?"

"If you don't want anything more than that, I guess so." The bluenette sits Indian style and it's a few seconds before he realizes Suzaku looks vaguely hurt. "Oh, n—look, Suzaku, I'm just talking out of my ass. Don't listen to me. I dunno anything about you guys." Though when he sees Suzaku running off with that smiling face to meet Lelouch, or when he sees them looking at each other during his lectures, something like envy gnaws at his belly. Not envy of either of the men in particular, but for what they have. He just wishes he could have that, too.

(and he did, once.)

"Let's talk about something else," Suzaku suggests. "Exams! We have to pass or we don't get credits."

"Fuck credits. I have good grades."

"…do you even understand how it works?"

"Not really, no." Rivalz pops open a beer, reveling in the fizzy sounds of it.

A sharp knock at the door stirs them both.

"Yoo-hoo!" calls a muffled sparkling voice that causes the two boys to look at one another, moderately alert. "Open up, Mr. Cardemonde!"

_Milly_, the bluenette mouths, every nerve ending in his body appearing to be stretched tight as he jumps up from his perch on the couch arm and looks out the peephole. Across the room, Suzaku watches indolently; this visit will most definitely send his best friend into a mental frenzy, for once making him the one who needs advice.

The door opens and in comes Milly, in a tight blue sundress and matching sunglasses, evidently uninfluenced by the frosty weather outside. "Woo, that drive is _long!_I'd forgotten how far away this campus is!"

Suzaku moves forward to shut the door, but not before the next visitor steps inside, her booted foot echoing on the linoleum. Suzaku feels his throat lock.

"Hi, Euph—" but he's silenced when she grabs him into an embrace, her pink hair and her sweet smell and her abrupt form and her tone of voice,

"Suzaku, I'm sorry!"

Bringing him to a sensory overload that crops at his voice, which tries to escape in a torrent of 'wh' sounds, the young Kururugi resists the tirade of questions he feels compelled to voice and asks just one: "What're you doing here?"

Periwinkle heavily cements to shamrock; Euphy is despondent, this much is clear, but she answers with strained cheerfulness: "I wanted to come and talk to you. I think that last time a lot of things were left unsaid."

"Uh—" he smiles, an uncomfortable flash of white— "Okay."

Rivalz and Milly talk awkwardly behind him, the other just as shaken up as he is. With brevity, he tugs Euphy to the northern wall, watching her mouth crook open in surprise at his uncharacteristic roughness. "Suzaku!"

"I'm sorry," he says rather gruffly, unable to lift his gaze from his feet. Whatever prompted him to wear runners with pants like these is beyond him. "I just—you know it's been a month." That fact is meaningless but it holds particular resonance with him in that during that month, he's spent all this time with Lelouch and he's been working to forget her and she just _can't _walk back into his life and make him feel guilty about what he did all over again. It just isn't right.

Then again, the universe doesn't know right and wrong. It knows only balance. "I know it has, but I've been thinking. I was so harsh with you, it wasn't right. I rushed out on you so fast. We didn't even really talk it out."

His lower lip folds under as the words twirl to connect in his head. "I know that, but I think you had every right to act the way you did. I—I cheated on you." He speaks in a low, hushed voice, his eyes flickering to Rivalz every few seconds. But the bluenette is mentally jammed by his own ex-girlfriend, who's talking pleasantly about all the things the four of them should do together, like she'd never even broken his heart and he should just forgive her.

In other words, they're both stuck.

"I know you did," says that gentle voice, pulling the brunet back into consciousness. "Everybody makes mistakes, Suzaku."

"It wasn't a mistake," he says, as kindly as he can muster, "It _isn't _a mistake." And the look that hits her eyes is one not unlike the one she gave him the first time he confessed.

Tearful. Embarrassed, she pushes her hand over her mouth. "Can we talk outside?"

She's always been so sensitive, crying at the drop of a hat, but he'd never imagined he would be the cause of that so easily-induced sadness, excluding of course his death, many years after the marriage they'd planned and spoken at length about.

He'd never imagined he'd be here now, having to explain to her why he wanted so badly to end it with her though she'd done nothing wrong—of course except the fact that she was not Lelouch, which is no one's fault.

"Sure." He owes her that, at the very least. Milly and Rivalz look up to see them, the downcast Euphemia and faltering Suzaku, but they say nothing, as fine friends should in situations like these.

In the hallway (which is blissfully deserted at this hour of the morning, since most of his peers are passed out drunk in their beds), she stands rather gawkily, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Suzaku watches her, rather confused over the onslaught of sensations passing through his mind. "You never answered me frankly," Euphy says, decisively despite her trembling face. "Do you love Lelouch?"

"I." He looks around. "I." Eyes fixed on him she watches the way Suzaku's mouth quavers as he deliberates on her query. "I don't know. I just—I know I wanted to be with him. And that was something I couldn't do if we were together."

"Without feeling bad." Euphemia looks down and a lock of pink hair shades her face. "I know. You never meant to hurt me. But would you ever… would you even _consider, _if he didn't—"

"Euphy." He takes a step closer. "Imagine you were with someone, and you loved him. You had for years. You knew everything about him and you'd never even dream of upsetting him. Then someone like—like me came along. And no matter how much you wanted to keep us both happy, you knew you couldn't. Because you wanted to be happy, too." His throat is heavy and he imagines he must sound something like a swamp frog; but the look on her face makes it clear he's getting through to her, especially in those eyes. They had always been so understanding. "I want to—I've been trying to figure out ways to fix this."

Her eyes close; fat tears skate down her pristine cheeks. "Me too. I was—I was worried about you. I came to see if you were okay but when I saw you I…'" she sniffed, wiping her nose. "I feel stupid."

"You're not stupid." Shakily, hesitantly, he uses his sleeve to bat away her tears, a move painfully unsanitary but it seems to do the trick; she smiles evenly, however still looking peaky. "It's been hard for me too."

Indeed, he's been thinking of her; at night, when Lelouch isn't there, he struggles with the insight that comes with that blameworthy mindset he bestowed upon himself the second he first pressed his lips to Lelouch's; the mindset that, however much he loves Euphy, he just loves—he just _loves—_

_(he just loves Lelouch more)_

Suzaku closes his eyes, his breathing rather ragged.

"Let's go back inside. I'm sure Milly has stories."

Sniffing, she says, "Yeah. She said we should come up and see you guys. I think she missed Rivalz more than anything." Indeed, the blonde has been beguiling her with her whiny rants about the inopportune ending to their relationship, which despite being her own doing was a 'product of bad judgment'. "I was scared at first. That you'd shut the door in my face."

An honest reply, "I could never do that" and the opening of a door later, Suzaku's eyes grow as large as dinner plates when he says Rivalz and Milly making out rather vigorously on his sofa, clearly unaware of their friends' presence. After a moment of being frozen Euphy tugs on his arm and they back out slowly, shutting the door as quietly as possible.

"Well." She blinks. "Well."

He takes a steady breath. It doesn't really surprise him, but still. Imagine Clovis's reaction if he happens to come across that while on one of his off-color dates. "Do you want to maybe get some coffee?"

She breathes. "Hoo. I'd like that."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

He drinks black coffee; she drinks some iced thing he didn't even know existed until today. It's rather foggy outside, and chilly, too. He's wearing a blue hoodie and jeans, and she a purple pea coat and one of her climate-irregular skirts that never seem to bother her. Awkwardly they look at one another from across the tiny wrought-iron table, only just a few minutes ago having spilled their hearts to each other, and now struggling to even think of something interesting to say.

Suzaku clears his throat, it feeling a bit rough. "So, how's school?"

"Fine. I got a B on my portfolio. My teacher said it could use a bit of spicing up." It'd consisted of some landscapes, a large and very detailed drawing of a hand, and finally, a portrait of Suzaku. The message written on the back had been, _I can really feel the emotion in this piece. _No kidding. "I have a little while to relax, since the holidays are coming." Euphy stirs her drink. "What about you? Are your grades good?"

The look on his face suggests otherwise. "Ah, well… most of them are. I could be working more but it's the first semester and everything, so I've been a little lazy."

She nods. "How is Lelouch?" her voice thickens at the mention of the man who unintentionally drove a wedge between them, but she handles it well enough, giving a small smile. He's been at the back of her mind for a while now, the subject of morbid curiosity as well as muted Euphy-hatred, which would equal out to mild dislike on a normal scale.

"He's been busy. A lot of grading to do."

"I can imagine." She looks at her pale, folded hands, stark against the black of the table, wondering if he noticed she's still wearing the ring he bought her sophomore year. It's excruciating to be demoted to friend status by Suzaku, to be someone to catch up with and be told about his lover rather than being that lover herself. The ridiculousness of it all would probably make her laugh if it weren't all so utterly and horribly true. "Is he treating you right?"

A nod; Suzaku's curls shift a bit in the air. "Yeah. He tells me not to worry about him, and I probably shouldn't. But it happens anyway." He hushes at this point as if he's let free some Freudian slip; tales of his fondness for Lelouch are most definitely not on Euphemia's list of things she wants to hear before she graduates. "I'm sorry," he says quickly.

She shakes her pink head. "No, it's… I'm glad you care so much about him." And her tone betrays none of the jealousy that rushes hot and heavy through her usually-so-pure veins. "He seems nice."

"He can be," Suzaku says offhandedly, thinking of Lelouch's taunting discourse about Rolo the other night. "What about you, have you been dating?"

Again, a shake no. "I don't feel up to it. I'm trying to focus on school, you know." It isn't as if she didn't try; but the handful of dates she had all had in common one detrimental quality: they were not Suzaku. "I want to try and teach art someday. To children, maybe. I think that's the best time to start learning about art."

_Bighearted as always_. Suzaku smiles. "Yeah. Kids these days need something to focus on other than just getting perfect grades."

Euphemia nods pointedly, looking into her coffee as if she's found something very interesting there. Perhaps it's just a defense mechanism to avoid the probing green gaze across from her. She considers asking the question she had started to pose earlier but knows the answer will be as rickety and irresolute as most others he's given her. Instead, it comes out as a statement: "Hey, Suzaku… I think we should start over. As friends. I don't think I could _not_be in your life."

"I wasn't asking you to," he replies, gently yet quavering, a bit taken aback by her sudden declaration. He holds his coffee in his hand and the warmth bends upward to his visage. "We can be friends. Why else would we be here right now?"

Blushing softly, she looks away. "I don't know. I thought you pitied me."

He blinks. Why is it she's so convinced he harbors any aversion to her, any reason to feel piteous? She's still lovely and capable and as engaging as a girl could ever hope to be, and just because he broke up with her doesn't mean she's lost any personal worth. Convincing her of that will be the tough part. "No. I told you earlier I really have been wondering about how you are. You can't be with someone for so long without wanting to keep in touch with them."

Feeling as if he's just reprimanded her, she smiles lightly and looks back into her coffee, a small part of her wondering if it was a mistake to come here today. What had she been hoping to accomplish—perhaps to make Suzaku fall in love with her again, forget about the very existence of his treasured Lelouch? Under the table, she pushes her legs together, feeling a cold chill that has nothing to do with the weather. "We should head back."

"What's wrong?" and he tilts his head in, in that ever-concerned way he always has.

"I… nothing, I just think we should check on Milly and Rivalz," she formulates, trying to hide the victorious tone that crops up upon fabricating an excuse. "What if Clovis comes in and sees that?"

Suzaku laughs. "I was worried about that, earlier." He pulls a crumpled five from his pocket and lays it atop the table, getting to his feet. She follows, her arms folded across her chest. How is it he's not cold in such a light jacket? "Say, Euphy, I'm glad you came out today. I think we both got a lot off our chests."

Euphemia nods, her throat feeling rather heavy at the notion that she'll be leaving him again this afternoon, for another odd chunk of weeks that'll undoubtedly be a lonely, regretful existence; she just doesn't voice this concern, however strongly she may feel it.

The cold air bites at flushed cheeks as she follows Suzaku, who doesn't seem nearly as cold as she is; it's odd how after having a talk about Lelouch, her entire body seems to have chilled. To Euphemia, who's always been so virtuous, being selfishly upset over Suzaku's desire to be happy is an ethical treason and that guilt is crushing her almost as much as her ex boyfriend's new relationship itself.

Because as well as she knows love is sightless she just doesn't see why it would be _Lelouch. _Lelouch who Suzaku has absolutely nothing in common with and is, what, fourteen, fifteen years older than him? Lelouch who's an artist, not an athlete, and – and is _male._

Distantly, ridiculously, she once wondered if she'd turned him gay – but it was very obviously Lelouch who did that, with his striking face and his _articulateness. _She bites her lip, these acidic thoughts unfamiliar to her; but then again, all of this heartbreak is too, and maybe that warrants it.

"They tore down the middle school," Suzaku informs her. "There was a fire in September. The damage was too severe." And that was the place they met, too; he sees that all over her face. Perhaps it was fitting considering their relationship had gone down the same road. "Isn't it weird? You kind of think places like that'll be there forever."

"Never changing."

"Yeah." He smiles, one side of his mouth jutting up. "I've been wondering about what happened to the Kururugi Shrine since the day I left it. My grandma doesn't even know."

"Whatever happened to it, after…?"

"The government seized it." And now it's probably been knocked down too, to make room for a mall or a park, or something like that, since Japan's been industrializing and expanding civilization more rapidly than most countries of late. As per usual, Suzaku finds himself remembering fondly the humid evenings under the canopy of all those trees, learning kendo or exploring on his own, his mother admonishing him for trying to bring his newly 'rescued' frogs into the house.

They reach Nester and the clouds have cleared a bit, cool sunlight streaming down upon the streets. Euphy comments on the weather and Suzaku answers noncommittally, finding himself lost alternatively in thoughts of Lelouch and his past, things so clearly separate but bringing him to wish they weren't—to wish that he had known Lelouch when he was younger, to have fallen in love with him then, sparing both himself and Euphemia much heartache.

But things happen. And everything, as so many people say, happens for a reason.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Later that night, Lelouch Lamperouge, PhD, finds a folded piece of notebook paper has been slipped under his door.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Rolo adjusts his bag on his shoulder as he opens the door to Professor Lamperouge's classroom, which is so wonderfully deserted at this hour—except of course for the Professor himself, who's sitting at the desk looking with purpose at his papers.

He has to clear his throat to get his attention. "Professor."

And violet sweeps up to him. "Hello, Rolo. Four o'clock exactly. Take a seat."

The boy does, crossing his legs. "Where should we start? I don't think I'm very clear on Plato."

"Why don't you tell me something about you first?" Lelouch asks, hypothesizing that the more Rolo talks about himself the less he'll want from him. "How old are you?"

A smile. "I'm seventeen."

Lelouch blinks back his surprise. "Young."

"I graduated early." The fawn-haired student smiles crookedly and then he sees the Professor return it, albeit a bit less enthusiastically. "How old are _you?"_

"I'll be thirty-one on December fifth." And he hopes Suzaku won't stress over getting him anything, though as it is he probably will. He's anxious by nature—

His eyes widen to such an extent it's a wonder they don't pop out of their sockets.

Because under the table, the table littered with his work and remains from this afternoon's lunch, a hand rubs hard against his crotch.

But Rolo's hands are folded primly in his lap. As surreptitiously as he can, Lelouch feels around under the table, his suspicions confirmed when his fingers encounter messy curls.

_Suzaku, you—_"And you came from Valencia, correct?" he nudges Suzaku's hip with each of his Oxfords in turn, as if asking him why he decided to stage a sit-in under his desk. Of course the boy cannot answer; he merely quickens his pace, and Lelouch just can't control the way his chest heaves so subtly. He teeters on the decision to get up and leave the room, citing some forgotten document as a reason—but then Rolo will see the tent that's quickly cropping up between his legs.

"Yes, Professor. I transferred last week." Rolo resists the urge to roll his eyes; of _course, _Lamperouge remembers the day he first entered this class. He doubts it's possible to forget first meeting him. (This, in its own way, is true, but for different reasons.)

"What—what brought you to Pendragon?" Come to think of it, Professor Lamperouge seems rather on-edge today, his face a ruddy flush and his eyes jutting hastily about the cool room. Satisfied and, somewhat sure that he is the reason for his quite flustered demeanor; Rolo chews on the end of his fountain pen.

"My mother said I needed to experience regular schooling. College, she said, would be the best way to get to know others."

"That's always a good way of looking at it." Biting his lower lip, Lamperouge flips open the small black leather book on his desk, which is where he tracks the grades of his students. "Whenever I first came to Pendragon I only had one friend. When she'd be—be busy—" his eyes pinch shut, pink rippling across his visage, "I would have no one to hang around with." He sighs, as if relieved.

Under the table, Suzaku smears his fingers across the head of Lelouch's corduroy-covered cock with minimal pressure, just to remind the Professor that he is there. With a sure hand he steadies his lover's shaking leg, hearing him speak to Rolo. "Study groups can be beneficial, when you're looking for friends—colleagues—mmf." It takes all the gall he's got to hold his head up, as it wants so badly to be thrown back against that pitiably hard chair and give way to the heat spooling underneath his navel. "Just make sure you don't fall in with the wrong crowd and I think you'll be fine."

"Rest assured." Rolo lets the pen slip from between his lips. "I don't plan to."

The Professor closes his eyes rather tightly, and opens them again. "What are you majoring in, Rolo?"

"Psychology." Under the table Suzaku's hand grows bolder, fingernails pulling at the rough material of his pants as they skate along the underside of Lelouch's erection. "I want to know why people react to things the way they do. Why emotion has such a pull on us."

Between being genuinely interested and painfully aroused, Lelouch finds himself stuck between a rock and a—well, a hard place. He almost snorts at the pun, but that ever-vigilant hand squeezes little circles around the head, effectively silencing any fluctuations in his sense of humor and bringing his legs to shake harder. It's juvenile to get this hot and bothered over a little teasing—such inexperienced teasing, even—but then again, it has been a week since his cock has been gifted the Japanese's attention…

Now he must give Rolo his own, as promised. "It's really fascinating. A good choice." He tries to hide the seedy wisp of relief that frees itself from his mouth, but only just fails. Rolo's eyes narrow. _Goddamn you, Suzaku._"Do you have Professor Bismarck?"

"Yes. He's rather limiting. But I think it's nice. We're able to challenge ourselves in the essays." Professor Lamperouge is an exquisite shade of rose now, his mouth canted open and his ears ripening with the telltale flush of arousal. Equally flabbergasted and proud that the mere subtle glances he's been shooting his way in their tiny silences have evoked his older crush to such attention, Rolo goes on, "Are you alright, Professor? You seem a little… troubled."

Lelouch swallows; his voice is rough and moist when he answers, "N-No, I was just trying to choose what I'm going to make for dinner." As if he actually cooks for anyone anymore, the exception being the audacious young man rubbing his crotch under the table. He steels his feet on either side of Suzaku's strong hips, and for a moment the younger's digits still, settling to stroke languorously against his thigh instead. "I haven't had Italian in a long time."

Rolo's fixed gaze is a mixture of confusion and fascination; at the way Lamperouge's pupils seem to have tripled in size, and his nerves seem to bear a resemblance to the strings of a just-plucked guitar, shaking evenly and consistently. "Professor?" A tightness around the older's eyes suggests irritation, or perhaps anxiety. However wan he may look, however, there's no hiding the delirious look in those blown eyes. Rolo's eyebrows shoot up. "What exactly is going on?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to leave," the older male bites out just as his zipper rasps open, fighting back the groan that pulls to the front of his throat as his cock flips out, having gone commando—of all the mornings he lamented doing laundry, he had to pick this one to heckle C.C. for pizza refunds instead. Faintly he hears a soft 'tuh', and that must be Suzaku spitting into his hand— "I have a lot of grading to finish up on and it really can't wait. I'm sorry—I— we had to cut this short, Rolo. Do you—do you want to continue next Saturday?" _Mm. _He sees in his mind's eye what that toned arm must look like, flexing and working as he twists his wrist to pull firm at the length before him. "I'm free th-then."

Disappointment spiderwebbing across his pointed face almost as promptly as he gets up, Rolo asks, "You might have mentioned this before now, Professor. I've cancelled all of my plans for this afternoon, and—"

"I _know _it's an inconvenience," Lelouch says through gritted teeth, the palm of his hand tapping—or rather, pulverizing—the oak top of his desk. "I just have to—work. Please, Rolo." He shoots the boy a look with intent to reprove, but the damp pressure of a mouth on the tip of his erection forces it to come out seductive. He wants to come. He's never wanted to come so badly in his life.

This, of course, sates his young admirer. "Of course, Professor. Whatever's convenient for you," he replies, nearly purring. Lelouch sends him a weak smile and the shorter hoists up his messenger bag, walking with deliberate slowness from the classroom and tipping the door closed behind him.

As he scoots back Lelouch's head whips down, shooting an infuriated glare at Suzaku, who's smiling lazy sunshine up at him. "You could have let up on me a little bit," he hisses, his voice weakened by the obvious arousal hidden behind it. "What if he would've seen—?"

Nuzzling enthusiastically against the gathered length in front of him, the brunet says, "Well, maybe that's the fun part," in that exasperatingly merry tone, he uses when he's trying to get himself out of compromising situations. "Would you mind if I hung around every time you tutor him?"

"That'll be a bit hard to do after a while," Lelouch says with inopportune darkness, rolling his eyes. However, they go slack when Suzaku takes him in his mouth again. "You… think you're so… clever, don't you."

"Not clever." Suzaku sucks up the side of his length, looking at him with vaporous green slivers, taking a long time as he pops Lelouch's cock in and out of his mouth, locking their eyes and relishing in the muddled stare that meets his. "Just fun. Funner than you."

At the deadpan he receives for the second time at the word 'funner' Suzaku takes the opportunity to swallow Lelouch down, feeling the head of his erection hit the back of his throat. And then it's like he's challenging himself, sucking Lelouch off as quickly as he possibly can—_he's really getting good at this, _the Professor thinks distantly as he returns the smile gifted to him by those quickly-swelling lips. This time Suzaku doesn't dawdle or tease, he just gets the job done, his thumbs rubbing along gaunt hipbones and his eyes still locked to Lelouch's, groaning whenever he feels his cock slide down his throat.

And then—

His vision bleached white and his back bent at an entirely inhuman angle, for a moment Lelouch finds himself afflicted with that incurable ailment in which he can't deliberate or analyze, only feel. Whenever the cool heat shifts down his spine and his eyes flicker open he sees his lover, staring up at him with a blank face—a face covered in his own release. "Suzak—"

"Well, I guess I should've expected it," the brunet says in a rather self-aggrandizing way as he plucks a tissue from the top of the desk, wiping his face. "It _has_been a week, after all…" for a moment he stops, contemplates. "Hey, are we going out tonight?"

His mind feeling a bit heavy as it always does when he is faced with the inevitability of disappointing Suzaku, Lelouch declines, his lungs still starved for oxygen in the post-coital haze, "We can't, Nunnally needs my help. She… she wants to learn how to play the piano." At the look on that tawny face he elaborates, "I know it sounds strange, but you'd be surprised to know that she's played instruments before. The flute and the violin, if I'm not mistaken. It's really a wonder."

Suzaku looks on with those overlarge eyes, some distant part of him warm by Lelouch's unconcealed fondness for his sister. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

There's a silence, a short one in which Lelouch fastens his pants, and Suzaku's eyes drift over the notes on the projector he didn't even see until now. Something to do with Socrates. He tips his head down, and looks at his hands. "Can we go out _tomorrow_ night?"

"I'm not sure." Because he and Nunnally are supposed to spend their annual 'Tennis Day' (as she named it) together tomorrow. "And if I don't I may be reeled into tutoring Rolo. He's a challenge, believe me."

"I'm sure he is." Suzaku's flat voice is rather distant as he's wandering into Lelouch's office. "Hey, you replaced the computer."

"Dean Carlan did. As an apology for his 'ridiculous accusations, founded without any consideration of the sterling ethics of Pendragon's newest professor', and I quote." He smirks a bit. "He also told me to apologize to you, and that you seemed like a promising young man."

"That's always nice to hear." The brunet dips his nose to sniff at the freesias atop the cherry table in the corner. "I don't think it's true, but whatever helps him sleep at night."

A soft laugh; Lelouch is looking at him, leaned so his face rests in his hand. Those glasses really do suit him. "I think you could have straight A's if you weren't so busy cavorting about with your professors."

Suzaku scoffs, "Just so you know, you're the only one I'm _cavorting_ _about _with," but he smiles. They both do. "Though, Professor Gottwald does have nice eyes."

"Agreed." Lelouch winks at him and gets to his feet, looking about the room for his briefcase. He blinks. "Where did I put—" immediately he seems to panic, his wraithlike eyes unusually large as he hurries about the room. "Maybe I left it in the car…" but somehow he knows he didn't, he brought in this morning when he was escorting—escorting—"_Rolo."_

"Rolo?"

"Do I have to repeat myself again?"

"You don't seriously think Rolo took your briefcase? That's a little crazy, even for him." Suzaku chuckles and sits in the revolving chair, spinning in effortless circles. "Nah. You probably just put it somewhere. Try and retrace your steps."

"What steps?" Lelouch demands. "I came in here and I've been sitting at my desk this entire time, save for the lecture. It was sitting right there." He points at a glaringly vacant space between his file cabinet and the edge of the desk. "What could he possibly want with it?" he asks, numerous scenarios and motives rushing through his super powered brain. Does he have anything in there that shouldn't be seen?

Sweet lord.

"The letter from you," he says through gritted teeth, a vein looking about ready to rupture at his temple, "Is in. My. Briefcase."

"Why would it be in there?" Suzaku's heart thumps herky-jerky.

"I tucked it in there after I read it," the professor's voice is brusque, hinged higher along the edges with dread. "Christ, Suzaku, that little shit is going to get me fired."

"Just calm down," Suzaku strides frontward, placing his arms on his lover's shoulders in reassurance—though they themselves are shaking— "I'll run by his dorm and ask him if he's got it. He's probably too busy studying to have even looked in there yet. It'll be fine."

As Lelouch looks up into Suzaku's eyes for encouragement, he thinks of a line in the letter they're now so worried about; and indeed, as said, everything feels okay. "All right. Go and come right back here, all right?"

"Where else would I go?" Suzaku counters with a soft breeze of laughter, pulling his blue fleece jacket over his otherwise meagerly clad form. "Be right back," he promises in the doorway, his eyes moving over Lelouch's rigid stance. "Don't worry about it!"

A muscle jumps in the Brittanian's jaw. "Just go, Suzaku."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

It's raining outside; the humid air springs Suzaku's curls into an awkward pattern as he walks with purpose down the hallway of Nester, the carpeting of which has been torn out to be replaced with hardwood sometime next week. Rolo's door is ajar, but only slightly; the lights are on, however. He knocks.

The shorter male glares at him, "And what do you want?"

_Dick. _Suzaku wonders if anyone would see him kick Rolo's ass. "Lelouch's briefcase is missing. He wonders if maybe you picked it up by mistake or something."

Rolo's eyes sort of remind him of Lelouch's, but they are much colder, their stiff purple gaze appraising him what seems like as slowly as they can. "I may have," he finally allows. "Hang on a minute. I'll look around." And the door is promptly shut in his face.

Irked, the young Kururugi looks over his fingernails; they really do need to be cut, as Lelouch groused at him about this morning. He fiddles with his silver ring as Rolo's footfalls echo about inside. At last, the door is open again and – as Lelouch predicted – he did indeed pick up his attaché, but whether he did it intentionally or not is unclear.

"Thanks." He smiles as strongly as he can, trying to ignore that grainy feeling in his throat that Rolo induces. "I'll get this back to him now." And he walks off down the hall. _See, Lelouch? You didn't have to worry… then again you're paranoid…_

"By the way, Eleven," says a sharp voice and it is a moment before he deduces it's still Rolo talking to him, "I wouldn't stay with someone who didn't love me, no matter how many times they called me beautiful."

Slowly, his head turned, face frozen. "What're you talking about?" Though he knows Rolo read the letter; it's etched all over his stupid pompous face.

"I didn't think it was actually happening," the petite male says, his voice growing more confident with each word, "Perhaps I thought the Professor – or, Lelouch, if you prefer – would have better taste than some Number. Do you think you're actually worthy of him?"

Of course, he had known Rolo was a gigantic prick; but to undermine Lelouch's affection for him – that's going too far. "Listen here, _Rolo, _you don't even know Lelouch; you've only been going here for like a week. Don't stick your nose in other peoples' business."

"It's not so much your business as it is Dean Carlan's. I'm sure he would love to know all about… how you and Professor Lamperouge have gotten drunk together on campus, and how he 'touches you'… and how exactly is that, Eleven?"

"_Eleven_?"

Both of their heads turn, to see that explosion of blond hair and large, unyielding azure eyes. Gino's carrying a rather hefty pile of books, but that doesn't change that fact that he's at least six-four. Rolo looks like he wants to curl up and die. "Rolo, you do know that's a racial slur. I have to report you for that," he says, with an apologetic smile. Suzaku curses him silently; why couldn't they have gotten someone with a backbone?

"Oh, Mr. Weinberg," Rolo simpers, "It's a term of affection between Suzaku and I."

Pale eyebrows crease. "How is that a term of affection? I don't know about Valencia but it's derogatory here." He places the books on an end table and rounds on him. "I'm going to have to write this in my report. Sorry."

"Oh, but listen." Rolo's back seems to straighten as he edges closer to the man over a foot taller than he, his confidence never faltering as he does. Suzaku hasn't done karate since his training with Tohdoh but he's pretty sure he could still snap his neck in a matter of seconds. "If you want interesting things to put in that report, take a look at what's going on between our friend the Ele—_Suzaku _and Professor Lamperouge."

"There's already been action taken on that. They were both cleared," Gino says, sending a bright smile Suzaku's way. "Tutoring is a nice thing. I really like how he's so hands-on with his students."

Rolo snorts. "You really have no idea."

Gino shakes his head. "The Dean already met with them both. He says he doesn't suspect anything and – in this school, what the Dean says is law." From his pocket, he pulls a small green notebook – presumably the place where he jots down things for that report. "Now, _Rolo Haliburton, racial slur, Suzaku Kururugi, 'Eleven'. _You really shouldn't talk like that from now on."

"So am I supposed to believe that this school operates under the double jeopardy rule?" the fawn-haired boy sneers. "That even though I have _evidence_ they can't be called back again?"

"I highly doubt you have _evidence_," Gino replies, for the first time looking truly annoyed, "And yes, that's the way it works. Dean Carlan is a very busy man and so is Professor Lamperouge, and Suzaku has to get ready for semester exams. It'd be stupid to call them back again just because of an assumption like that."

As he is so obviously caught in a difficult situation, Suzaku can nearly feel the anger coming off Rolo in waves. "May I say something? I think this school is in serious need of a re-evaluation if a Professor can just wander around corrupting young men like—"

Then, Suzaku loses control of himself. "_Corrupting_? You don't know _anything _about it—"

"Stop fighting," Gino says, "Or I'll have you both removed." His gaze flickers back between the two; Suzaku, his jade eyes much brighter than usual, and Rolo, his alight with some other emotion. It seems like they've been fighting about this for a while, the anger remaining dormant until now. While he's supposed to stay neutral when it comes to his tenants' arguments, Gino can't help but side with Suzaku, thanks to a coupling of his attraction to him as well as a newfound annoyance pertaining to all things Rolo. He's been working here for a while now, and the system, in his eyes, has never been unfair.

"Well." Suzaku balances his weight from one foot to the other, his limbs feeling a bit like silly putty. He's avoided punishment _again_ and without any effort this time, having been saved by both Lelouch and Gino in turn. "I think I should go now."

"Bye, Suzaku," Gino says with an overlarge grin. (2) Awkwardly, Suzaku waves, turning around and hoping they don't hear his horribly loud sigh of relief.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

"I have it, I have it all," he says rather unnecessarily as he canters into Lelouch's classroom, watching the older look up in surprise. "And you won't _believe_what almost happened—ah?" He frowns at the man walking out of Lelouch's office, which he'd previously thought empty.

"Suzaku," the black-haired male says airily, (though he looks much too flustered to be speaking so calmly) "I'd like you to meet my brother, Schneizel."

Indeed, they do look something alike, but not to the degree that he and Nunnally do; this man is brawnier than Lelouch, only a little, and ice-blue eyes puncture Suzaku as he says, "Hello. You must be Suzaku. My brother says you're his most gifted student."

Shooting Lelouch a look, Suzaku muses, "I wouldn't say that… it's nice to meet you, though."

"Anyway, brother dear," the blond man says, seemingly continuing a conversation, "Now that you have company I'd say we should finish this discussion later, hm?"

"That would be best," Lelouch replies frigidly, putting his glasses on and thumbing through a stack of papers. "And tell Max congratulations for me, would you?"

"I will." Schneizel whips a black military-style coat from the hook on Lelouch's door and dons it, pulling the sash taut to his waist. "It's not every day my little brother gets married. To a man, though… I suppose it runs in the family." He winks and Lelouch glowers, and after that he's leaving the room, casting a sidelong look at Suzaku before disappearing from view.

Putting the briefcase down on the desk, the brunet asks, "What was that all about?"

A sigh. "My brothers like to try and make me miserable. It's a matter of no importance. So I was right. Rolo took it?"

"Yeah. He yelled at me in the hallway. Said I wasn't worthy of you. Gino wrote him up because he called me a—I'm sure you know." He leaves out some of the more hurtful things the Valencia-transfer said to him for the sake of Lelouch's feelings, though it can't possibly hurt him more than Suzaku. "It's all okay. We're okay. I told you, you should've trusted me."

"I do trust you. I can't _not _trust someone who writes me something like that." Lelouch flashes him a smile. "I think my favorite part was about… the touching." (3)

His cheeks burn. "That _would _be your favorite part." He slides the briefcase closer to his lover's smiling face. "Now hide it somewhere smart next time. We underestimated Rolo."

"Mmhm." The Britannian places the briefcase in its usual spot, but not before dipping inside it to retrieve the rather crumpled sheet of notebook paper, watching with a pronounced leer as Suzaku's face reddens further. "Let's have a read, shall we? Things like this are always better the second time around."

"No—" Suzaku makes to snatch the letter away but Lelouch swings around in his chair, clutching that damned piece of paper in his slender hands.

_"Lelouch,_

_It really hasn't been long, not long at all, since I first met you. Four months ago to be exact. And a few days after, I remember you asking me to write you something. Well, maybe this isn't the genius poetry you were expecting, but I think it'll be just fine."_

_"When I fell in love with Euphy, everything happened just the way it was supposed to. We went on dates and we had all these mutual friends, and I felt like I wanted to be with her the second we met. There was never any surprise to being with her and I think that's what brought me to you. You, the writer, my professor who didn't like people using their phones on the first day. I remember thinking about how good you smelled, and why you suddenly wanted to go over Japanese stuff, and Shirley telling me how much she wanted you. I was jealous, I didn't like being jealous."_

The Professor looks up then, his eyes smiling along with his lips.

Suzaku refuses to meet his eyes, his tawny nose crinkling. "Keep reading."

_"I can't remember when I knew I wanted to be with you. Maybe it was when we danced and you told me I was beautiful, or maybe it was when we were drunk and passed out together, I really don't know. I wish I could give you some big and mushy confession of all my memories and how I never want you to leave me, and stuff like that, but I'm really not that good a writer anyways and this is probably all grammatically incorrect, and you're probably cringing at every word. But I guess the truth still stands that I … love you."_

The pause was not written in the letter; it's Lelouch who implements it, "Do you really mean that?"

His voice is heavy, and it sounds like he's been crying: "It is."

Lelouch looks at him for a long way, a blank look on his pretty face. Suzaku wishes he'd be more betraying when it comes to his expressions, but the older just keeps reading the letter out loud:

_"And I do remember when I figured that out, it was this morning. I was thinking about how bad I felt for upsetting Euphy but also about how she never had what you do. She doesn't have your eyes, your shitty stamina—"_

Lelouch glowers as if to say 'go fuck yourself' but continues reading in that clear orator's voice:

_"Or your ability to read my mind, and not judge me for anything. You tease and taunt me all the time and I think sometimes you mean it but it doesn't change anything. I know you don't love me. I know you probably never will._

_This isn't me blaming you, this is me saying that I want stuff to always be like this, but more. I feel like going to the beach with you, and I want to pull your scrawny ass out of the water if you start drowning. I think we should go away somewhere, for a week or two, just each other, no running and no secrets. And I want to get to know Nunnally too. She seems shy to me but I'm shy too and I think we could be friends. C.C. doesn't like me but that's okay. She doesn't seem to like you either._

_This is a big step for me to write you all this. I still can't believe I'm doing it in the first place and I'm half-considering crumpling it up and starting it again. Sometimes I worry that you don't take me seriously, because you're so much older, and you were competing in writing competitions and winning awards when I was learning to walk. But I guess I just love you so damn much, it's worth risking. I can't think when you're staring at me and I definitely can't think when you're touching me."_

That smirk is back again, and Lelouch re-adjusts his glasses.

_"I'm going to take up my whole damn notebook with this letter if I start talking about that, so I won't, I'll just say it again: I love you. I don't care if you don't love me back. Like I said, we don't have to over-analyze things. All I know is when I look at you, and you look at me, I feel like everything's going to be fine._

_Good thing I had my phone out that day._

_Suzaku"_

"What was the point of that? You've already read it," the Japanese boy complains, shoving his hands in the pockets of his gray hoodie. At the image, an irreversible smile paints across Lelouch's lips. "What?"

"Suzaku," he replies, "I think this deserves the Newbery medal."

"Shut up."

"I've never read a love confession so clearly struggled through… and that's how I know you mean it."

"—what?"

It's back again; that painfully thoughtless feeling that consumes Suzaku whenever Lelouch looks at him in that way.

_(there's really no name for an expression like that)_

"Lelouch."

It's an embrace unlike any of the others they've shared, an embrace that symbolizes a line finally crossed, Lelouch's love for awkward yet emotionally powerful writing, and last, but certainly not least, Suzaku's bliss; however Lelouch is silent, his cheek pressed against the brunet's as he silently attempts to understand what he's feeling.

He squeezes the boy closer to him, swaying a bit as Suzaku does the same.

(_"By the way.)__  
__"What?"__  
__"You have dirt on your face.")_

Brought back down to earth, Suzaku scowls. "You ruined it." And breaks their embrace.

Lelouch laughs, infectious velvet. "I just don't want you scampering around looking like some ingrate." Teasingly he swipes his hand through the head of messy hair before him and watches as Suzaku's head pushes up to it, unconsciously as the rest of him seems to be pulled to attention. "Be discreet, would you?"

"Gino doesn't really suspect—"

"The way things are I infer there's more than one Rolo in the world." His eyes sweep about in mock-worry. Then when he looks back at Suzaku, "See? A good piece of literature can do wonders."

"I wouldn't call it _literature. _I jotted it down after Euphy left." His lips twist.

"Ah, I—Euphemia came to see you?" that ebony brow furrows and Suzaku blinks.

"W-well, yeah, I mean, she came with Milly." Pink dusts over cheeks already red—"Sorry. I should've told you."

Slowly realization dawns across Lelouch's face; looking at Suzaku he can tell easily that the visit was completely innocent, but then why wouldn't it be. He was the one Euphemia was snubbed for, after all. "Do you have plans tonight? I was thinking—I was thinking maybe you could come over."

Since he was previously told his was out of the question, Suzaku inquires, "Don't you have Nunnally?"

"Yes," he says, and after a moment Suzaku understands, a smile creeping onto his chapped mouth. "Do you think you can help me with the piano? She says I'm too fast in teaching her."

"I can play the flute," Suzaku offers. "Marching band."

Resisting the urge to snort at the image of Suzaku marching to a cadence while playing a flute, Lelouch just shakes his head. "C.C. doesn't know either. However, that's not really a surprise. Well. I suppose you should be getting along back to Nest—"

"I just got here!" Suzaku protests, taking a step closer to the Professor and receiving only a bland smile in return. "Are you really going to throw me out? After—after—" he turns away, scoffing. A lot of the time he wonders if Lelouch is bipolar, given his sudden rises and drops in mood and tendency to change his mind.

Eyes close and Lelouch smiles. "I guess it wouldn't be right. Sit down, then. And try to be quiet. I'm here until five."

Suzaku drags a small chair from the corner of the room, not seeing the ex-prince cringe as it scrapes across the floor. He sits and crosses his legs, thumbing his phone and playing a game of Tetris to pass the time. Whenever he finishes, the clock reads **4:33,**and just three minutes have passed since he originally settled in. Unintentionally he sighs and Lelouch replies with a soft 'I'll be done soon'.

The brunet angles his head away from Lelouch, letting his chin drip into his palm as he looks out the window.

In this moment, Suzaku Kururugi finds peace.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Lelouch's house smells nice, like cinnamon, when they arrive later, the sky blooming twilight streaks across the white kitchen floor. The slighter male edges in and flicks on the light, having told Suzaku to stay behind in the foyer suspecting an intruder—

One with bright green hair and a braggart's sneer on her face, sitting at his kitchen table. "Welcome home, Your Majesty."

"_C.C.,"_he hisses, "_I have company."_

Golden eyes flicker with amusement. "I knew all about that. That's why I made the pie." She gestures to the source of that cinnamon smell—and he realizes she's dressed up, in a silk blouse and with tiny studs at her ears. "Nunnally's upstairs getting dressed. She's excited."

"I should've known something like this was going to happen," he grumbles, edging across the room to lightly tip up the foil covering the pie. It didn't seem radioactive—in fact it spurred his salivary glands to work overtime.

"Ah—?" C.C. looks up to see Suzaku standing there, in a thick black sweater and jeans. He really is adorable, and contrasts Lelouch quite well. "_Konichiwa, Suzaku-san."_

Confused, he tilts his head to the side, something like a humanoid puppy. "Hi, C.C."

"You're no fun." She pouts. "I was hoping we could have a nice Japanese conversation. I'm trying to brush up on my skills."

"Mm? Ah, well." He pushes his shoes off with his opposite feet and places them in the doorway to the kitchen. "_Genki desu ka_?"

Confusion knits across her normally so confident face. "Eh?"

"He asked you how you're doing," says Lelouch, who's pouring himself a glass of wine. He's going to need it now that he's been _blessed_with the company of the venerated pizza witch. "You need more than brushing up if you don't know that."

"Not everyone can be a Rhodes Scholar like you," she grouses, getting to her feet and walking rather loudly across the room thanks to her green stiletto heels. "Anyway, Suzaku, I figured since Lelouch talks about you so much, that I should invite myself over for dinner. I've already outdone myself with this pie, so," she smiles, "You will be enjoying the cooking of Chef Lelouch vi Brittan-"

"Lamperouge," he says tersely, eyes jutting from her to Suzaku then back again. "_Lamperouge."_Thankfully, Suzaku seems to be too busy admiring the potted plant near the window; he thanks god or, whoever the hell is up there, for the small favors. "And what makes you think I plan to go along with your little scheme?"

"Scheme? Blasphemy. I just wanted to make Suzaku feel welcome!"

Violet eyes roll. "You say that like you live here." However, for some reason he's complying, getting his rather loud pink apron out from under the sink (a birthday gift from his sister) either because he wants to show C.C. up or because Suzaku should know just how good a cook he is. Probably both. "Suzaku, could you get me some milk?"

The brunet lad pulls it out of the fridge, looking confused. "Pink…?" he asks, with a cursory shrug that suggests he should've figured as much. C.C. smiles at that, for reasons unknown.

"What exactly are you planning to make, Chef Lelouch?"

"Telling you would ruin the fun~" his playful tone comes out rather forced. In fact, he plans to make gratin, and sprinkle it over pasta, since he's out of almost everything else. The universe has a way of putting him in these situations when he least expects it, but then he agreed to cook and can't go back on it now. "Suzaku, why don't you go and see Nunnally?"

"Ah—sure, Lelouch." He's rather confused as to why his lover's shooing him off but he does not mind it, if it leads him to the company of always-kind Nunnally. Considering the amount of times he's been here it's rather sad he doesn't know where her room is, but then again he never looked for it.

Luckily, the door is ajar; she's sitting on her bed, running a hairbrush through her abundant hair. He presumes C.C. dressed her in that pink dress. Speaking softly, he greets, "Hi, Nunnally."

Right away, she smiles. So cheerful, unlike her darling brother. "Suzaku-san? Is that you?" she doesn't look around for the source of his voice as most blind people he's known have, having found it the second he said hello. Her room is done intricately in delicate pinks and yellows, little Limoges and ornaments decorating the whitish table in the corner. Probably the product of Lelouch's summers, which he's said are often spent trying to come up with new things she'd find interesting. "C.C. told me my brother would be bringing you home but I thought she was making it all up."

"Nope, I'm here." Cautiously, he sits on the edge of the soft bed, but she is not bothered by his presence, so he relaxes a little. "Does Lelouch have dinner guests often?"

"He has a Christmas party every year," she notes, "But other than that I think we're the only ones." She grins, on her face he sees a bit of Lelouch; their noses are identical, and they smile almost the exact same way, though hers are pure whilst Lelouch's often hold ulterior motives. "What's he cooking?"

"It's a surprise." His eyes drift to her bedside table, and he smiles; there's a picture of a young Lelouch, seven or eight, a big grin decorating his face. Front teeth that are now perfectly symmetrical were a bit too large then.

"Oh. Ah, Suzaku, could you—" she reaches to the right to touch the handle of her wheelchair, and it takes him an absurdly long time to understand before awkwardly affirming 'oh, right, ah-of course' and gingerly scooping her up and placing her in it. "Thank you."

With that she wheels herself down the hallway and gracelessly he follows. Even as a cripple, she's as genteel and pliable as her brother, in the way her arms move to push herself along. Before meeting them Suzaku would never have looked at people this way, would not have so carefully scrutinized their gaits. Only Lelouch's influence would make him nitpicky enough to even _notice_those things.

Said Britannian was still in the kitchen, mixing some viscous concoction (and looking at it, Suzaku can tell it's some kind of cheese). When he arrives, C.C.'s talking "…and I think you look like a big faggot in those pants, _tight _enough…?" She hushes at the sight of him, and Lelouch looks over his shoulder, seeing first Nunnally and telling her she looks beautiful. She giggles. Suzaku watches the scene, and it's impossible to look away.

(Lelouch can love. He sees it.)

A lofty voice brings him back to the here and now. "And purple really isn't your color."

"_Thank you, _Cecilia." She sticks her tongue out at Lelouch at the use of her actual name.

"Cecilia is dead," the green-haired lass replies dramatically, "I'm just initials now." She drinks out of a crystal glass, downing the drink it held, which looks suspiciously like scotch. "Say, Suzaku. What does sake taste like? I've never had any."

"Suzaku is not a copy of _Japanese for Dummies,"_ mutters the man in front of the stove, but C.C. does not hear him. He listens to Suzaku describe various beverages, answering C.C.'s questions as if she were not the single most annoying female this side of the equator. Come to think of it, it may be just about time to put the pasta in…

"Lelouch," says a sweet voice.

"Yes, Nunna?"

"Is Suzaku coming to your party on Christmas?"

"If he wants to." Though it's hard to imagine his lover being satisfied hanging around with his colleagues from school—he gets the distinct feeling the brunet would call them _stiffs_behind closed doors—but it would be nice to have him there, to distract from the monochromatic talk and tasteless come-ons he gets from women he wasn't even attracted to in his teens. No, the only woman he ever considered spending his life with is now an incubus of exasperation and hefty credit card bills due to pizza.

He always thought of it as her backward way of getting revenge, though she only seemed upset about it for a few days after the fact.

No, she's just a glutton.

Suzaku's never been a huge fan of parties, relatively shy by nature. However, being seen with Lelouch in front of people—when it's not jeopardizing his standing with the University—strikes him as a nice thing to look forward to. It's a privilege, even now, to be in his company alone, let alone in front of others who would normally deem him incompetent. "That smells good."

"It's gratin," Lelouch reveals with a sigh. "I haven't had time to go shopping lately so I hope you won't mind."

"Lelouch is the stereotypical gay man," C.C. comments. "He cooks, cleans, reads poetry and likes it…"

"I didn't know he was gay when I first met him," he replies, a bit shaky due to intimidation (because despite her slight stature, one cannot deny that upon being unfamiliar with her she's an imposing figure). "My 'friends—well, never mind."

Cattily, she remarks, "I knew _you_ were. Mostly because Lelouch wouldn't stop talking about you."

"You bothered me about him every chance you got," the blackette points out, placing a lid on the pot and moving into the overlarge pantry for pasta. He toes the door shut. "Don't tell C.C. anything you don't want repeated, Suzaku."

"Wasn't planning on it." He rubs his feet together, feeling a bit cold. "Do you have work to do tonight, Lelouch?""

"Ah, well." He breaks the pale yellow stalks of pasta in half, throwing them into an overlarge pan. "I got finished this afternoon. You will have my full attention."

Nunnally, who has been sitting at the table with C.C., puts in, "Lelouch, can Suzaku come with us to play tennis tomorrow?" And she looks hopefully over at the brunet, who smiles meekly and stares at the potted plant in the corner again. Is that a tiger lily?

"I don't mind if he comes." With that, he approaches the table and sits in the final chair at the head of it, directly across from Suzaku. Green eyes flit up to meet his; one violet winks gently. "Are you any good at tennis?"

"I really haven't played much." That's sort of a lie; he played with Euphemia all the time back in high school, though somehow she'd always shown him up. He doesn't think Lelouch harbors any athletic skills whatsoever, so beating him will be relatively easy. "I'll go with you if I don't have plans." Which, of course, he doesn't—Rivalz said he's going to be busy with Milly, and Shirley's occupied trying to charm the leader of the Drama department into giving her the lead in _Macbeth. _It's rather surprising that Lelouch isn't the head of that particular faction.

"Yay!" Nunnally's face lights up, and in turn so does Lelouch's; their interactions are a real treat for Suzaku, who's unfamiliar with this fatherly side of his lover. "I want to teach him. Can I?"

"I don't see why not." Lelouch is aware of C.C. glaring at him as if to say, _are you stupid. _"Just make sure you're careful."

Suzaku looks from Lelouch, to Nunnally, to C.C., and back to Lelouch again, a look of muted confusion on his face. This is the first time he's ever eaten dinner in a family setting since his father died, and that fact hits him particularly hard when he wonders if it's all going to last as he usually does, if Lelouch means what he says, or if the sweet words he hears from those lips are just empty promises hidden behind an adoring face.

He decides the older will always be something of an enigma. There's no avoiding it, really.

They sit down to dinner and Nunnally says a blessing; Lelouch and C.C. seem less enthused about it than she but participate all the same, and so does Suzaku, albeit a bit disoriented since he's never actually heard anyone say a prayer before a meal.

"Suzaku," C.C. says softly, "I know most people say grace, but do the Japanese say anything special before eating?"

Disoriented by how inquisitive she is about his homeland, he replies, "They give thanks by saying 'itadakimasu'."

"How interesting." And he really cannot blame her; Britannians really don't know very much at all about Japan, thanks to the government's successful attempts to wipe 'the Numbers' influence' out. Lelouch, being as well-read as he is, knows much more about them than the average citizen, and is rather exasperated by the brazen curiosity. "Lelouch," she's much less vulgar when Nunnally is in the room, he's noticed, "When is your party this year?"

"Whenever I can manage to get invitations mailed."

"I don't know _how _you muster enough saliva to lick all those envelopes."

"I use a sponge, you ignoramus."

Suzaku sits there, pleased as he listens to their banter; he can tell Lelouch is struggling to keep from just cussing her and being done with it, since Nunnally's next to him, unaffected by their tawdry quips. Of course, she's probably used to it. He chats with her softly, learning that Sayoko is teaching her Geometry, and that she isn't a big fan of it, as very few people are (excluding Lelouch, of course), and that she would like help folding her cranes, as she folds the wings crookedly without assistance. He assures her he can fix it. She's glad of it.

It isn't until C.C. and Lelouch stop talking that Suzaku notices the Britannian male's adoring gaze, fixed on himself and Nunnally. When he meets it, Lelouch looks back down to his plate. "Suzaku," he says, "Are you familiar with E.E. Cummings?"

_Only what I've heard Rolo talk about. _"Not really," he admits.

"There's a poem he wrote," the older takes a bite, "Called 'feeling is first'. It makes me think of you." (4)

Confused as he always is by Lelouch's sudden declarations, Suzaku just smiles. "I'll read it."

The rest of dinner passes uneventfully; C.C. complains, Lelouch chides, and Nunnally asks Suzaku questions; she's fascinated by his life as a college student though he wonders why she doesn't just ask her brother, who went much longer and _actually_dedicated himself. Perhaps it's her way of attempting to get close with him, and that's just fine.

And once more, he feels truly, seamlessly happy.

.,.,.,.,.,.,

"So I think that went pretty well." Suzaku drifts into the bathroom, feeling oddly spry for ten thirty at night. Lelouch lingers in the doorway. "Don't you?"

"Mmmhm." The older male won't meet his eyes, his gaze focused on something to the lower left. His arms are crossed. "Whenever you get finished here, come back into the bedroom." With that, he slinks around and closes the door pointedly; confused, Suzaku wonders why he simply dropped out of the conversation. Still, it is Lelouch, and Lelouch is full of surprises.

He pulls his thick and rather itchy black sweater up over his head and folds it, leaving it near the second sink where he always puts his clothes when he stays over (with the exception of last time, when they stayed forgotten on the floor all night). In his tank top and boxers, he stares at the skin of his chest, where the offending sweater has left small but noticeable hives. Dousing his face with cold water he prepares to face whatever melodramatic worries Lelouch wishes to rant to him about, as they're never more serious than an irritating student or something C.C.'s done.

However when he opens the door, he finds Lelouch standing right where he was before, arms still crossed in the exact same way.

"Lelouch," he begins, confused, "what's up?"

"Last week in the shower," says the blackette with an air of nonchalance akin to someone speaking about the weather, "You did something to me. Can you tell me what that was?"

Realization dawns on Suzaku, and then the confusion returns. Had he hurt Lelouch somehow? Failed to please him (though god knows he'd certainly _appeared_pleased)? "Ah, I—we—what'd I do wrong?"

A pinprick of laughter; Lelouch walks away from him, a teasing (_feral_) smile decorating his lips. "Wrong? You don't give yourself enough credit, not nearly enough." He's leaned over, rummaging through a drawer, his hand growing a bit jerkier the longer he looks. "This won't do. I think I'm out."

"Out of what?" There _are_many other things he could be out of, like adhesive for his lint roller, or—or—

He catches the bottle in his hands with surprising dexterity, his eyebrows raised as he meets Lelouch's gaze. "I think you just ruined the spontaneity of it all."

This time, the laugh is stronger, caustic. "Not quite. Sit down." And he does, that bewildered look sprawling over his face again as he attempts to decipher the expression on his lover's. But after a moment it doesn't matter, because Lelouch has pulled him in for a scorching kiss, swinging a leg over him and pushing them both down onto the surface of the bed.

Clutching the silk tie that's tied around the older's neck, Suzaku gleefully complies, sucking and laving at his tongue and winding his legs around his back. "Now," says Lelouch in that heated voice he's come to adore, "Concerning this," his hand encircles the scantily-covered erection that's started to poke at his stomach, "Would you like me to take care of this?"

When Lelouch talks this way (as he never has before, really; as a rule the older has been relatively quiet during their… _relations) _his cock twitches; and, knowingly, the older replies, "I thought so." And pulls Suzaku out through the slit in his boxers. Eye contact ensues, a blurred pink color roasting Suzaku's cheeks and the flanges of his nose, which occasionally twitches as he stares at Lelouch.

Finally, it's too long. "Is there something on your mind?" he asks, a rather strained murmur as he takes in the image before him, Lelouch sitting expressionless and holding his stiff length with just enough pressure to keep it rigid.

"A good many things," says Lelouch in a frolicsome voice that irks Suzaku to no end. "Anything on yours?" He dips his head inquisitively and Suzaku's mind races—as fast as it can go in this situation, anyway—with possible explanations for the blackette's behavior, and the most plausible one is that this is just another product of his love to tease.

Nevertheless, it's annoying. "Oh, nothing." He makes a show of rolling his eyes and rocks his hips up once, gently but obviously. "Weren't you going to _take care _of something, Professor?"

"Yes, but." Violet eyes look drolly upon him, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world, "Be specific with me, would you?"

_Specific? What does he—oh. _Embarrassment rushes hot and profound across his face; but the foisting pressure in his tummy overtakes it. "I want you to take care of me," in a rickety tone, he reiterates Lelouch's words from earlier, watching the titillating enjoyment sweep over Lelouch's aristocratic features.

"But take care of your… what?"

_You have to be kidding. _"My cock." A shiver flickers down his spine. He'd think Lelouch would be cleverer going about this; but as mentioned a scene before, Lelouch is just a treasure trove of impulses.

"Was that so difficult?" and then he strokes him, quickly and with a twisting motion to his wrist, his eyes narrowing a bit as he sees Suzaku start to lose himself, his head tossing back and forth against the pillow as his hips jerk around, toes curling as Lelouch tongues at the slit of his erection.

It only gets worse when he notices the older has passed a hand between his own legs.

"Lelouch—"

"What?"

"Where did… where did this all come from?" it's not normally like him to _question _Lelouch's initiations (more often _applaud _them) but the way the older presented the situation, the way he mentioned their tryst in the shower the other night—it's all come together to be more than a little bit confusing for the younger male.

Still holding his erection, Lelouch tilts his head to the side. "I almost forgot about that. Where did you put the lube?" He points; the older retrieves it from near the pillow and passes it to Suzaku.

Squirting a liberal glob into his hand, Suzaku moves to coat his cock with the lube; but Lelouch tuts twice, softly and he stops. "What?"

And with that, the older swipes his fingers through the glob on Suzaku's palm and shoves a finger inside Suzaku's hole, watching his face spasm and his lips fall open, "Some warning would've been nice."

"I think it was warning enough," the older scissors and stretches him, his fingers kicking around, "that I mentioned the other night. You did this to me, didn't you?"

"What is this.. Re…" Suzaku swallows, "Revenge, or something? You seemed to like it well enough then." unconsciously, he clenches down on Lelouch's finger, to which he responds by adding another; his head falls back and he stares down the length of his body, watching the rhythm of Lelouch's thrusting wrist.

Lelouch's slacks come off in a rush, and he's inside of Suzaku before either of them can manage another thought—

It's slow, it's long. Suzaku sighs rhythmically and grasps his hand as Lelouch licks and sucks his neck, finding himself unable to look the boy in the eye for reasons unknown, but the suffocation and the heat on his cock is distraction enough from that. He hopes Suzaku doesn't notice the subtle shudder that accompanies each of his thrusts, and Suzaku hopes Lelouch doesn't notice how _girly _he winds up sounding as he gets closer to his climax (though he suspects even the hearing impaired could).

Eventually their movements speed up, the bed creaking a bit in protest; Lelouch grunts louder than usual, drowning out the brunet's noises almost entirely.

When it's over something that sounds like "I love you" issues from Suzaku; Lelouch just smiles decorously at him and pulls out, collapsing beside him in bed as the thrills he's just experienced collapse into peaceful, buzzing calm.

This time, they don't speak after.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

A few hours pass.

Lelouch's bleary violet eyes open, a little slowly at first, aided by the bright red glare of his alarm clock: **5:56 AM. **He lets his head drop back onto the pillow, planning to return to his dream—

But a sleepy voice stops him, "Lelouch?"

It's useless to pretend to be asleep. Suzaku's more intuitive than that. "Hi, Suzaku," he says, hoping he sounds less irritable to the other than he does to himself.

When he looks over at Suzaku, it isn't the unbridled affection and attraction he feels.

(Reader, it's guilt.)

"When are we leaving?" the brunet asks him, sitting up. The sheets fall away to reveal his chest, flecked with the love bites that only make Lelouch's stomach feel colder.

"At eight," he replies, staring up at the rapidly spinning ceiling fan. It's just too much to look at Suzaku, Suzaku whom he so adored yesterday and who he will probably adore again tomorrow, only to doubt all of it after an odd chunk of hours. Suzaku who just told him he loved him while they were fucking. The breath he takes is heavy, hard on his lungs. "Go back to sleep, Suzaku."

"I can't sleep now, not now that I know you're awake."

"I'm trying not to be."

Hurt, Suzaku murmurs, "…okay." A rustle of covers and he's quiet once more. Lelouch almost wants to talk to him, to explain that this is all just so transitory and he's so damn sorry for lying up until now—

But was he? Lying? It's never clear. One moment his heart's about to burst, affection for Suzaku thrumming through him with speed unrivaled, and then the next he's disgusted he has the _audacity_to do something like this to a boy so young (because sometimes he forgets he's only a student), the nerve to string him along like this.

With an irritable huff he hopes Suzaku doesn't hear he gets to his feet and moves into the bathroom, ignoring his complete nakedness and staring instead at his own face, as if it will _somehow_shed light on the miasma of emotions coursing through him.

All he gets is more confused.

He starts the shower and stands under the water, which is blistering, as he usually likes it. There's a quiet hopelessness about his stance; but inside, his mind is whirring, trying to find the source of his guilt.

And to make it worse, Suzaku comes in, standing near the shower in the boxers he'd so eagerly thrown off earlier. "Is everything okay?" he asks, knowing it isn't; Lelouch hates himself right now, that's evident in the despondent haze over his eyes. "Lelouch."

"I didn't want to hurt you," Lelouch says, his throat scratchy, "But I don't love you. You know that."

Green eyes are floor-bound; Suzaku crosses his arms. "You know I do." He seems very awake though his eyes are still lined with sleep, his movements still a bit cumbersome; and Lelouch's statement doesn't seem to have surprised him in the least.

That doesn't make it any better. "Hearing you say it, it—it makes me sick. You don't deserve—you deserve someone who loves you back."

"I already had someone who did," Suzaku reminds him softly, sitting on the closed toilet. "And I left her for you." This time the reminder is not acidic; in fact, it's gentle. "Are you breaking up with me?"

The water pitter-patters on the floor; Lelouch looks away from him, his hair hanging wetly in his face. "No, I… I just… I'm trying to make sure you know it's never going to be like it was with her. I am never going to act like I love you." The guilt is mincing him into emotional shards so sharp he feels lifeless; and it's further painful that Suzaku does not mind.

"I didn't ask you to," Suzaku tells again, his eyes agonizingly large and wise, "I told you, I'm fine with anything. As long as you're with me." And he smiles, so tenderly and meaningfully, that Lelouch's chest hurts. "I'm not like most people. I grew up knowing things don't always work out. And so did you."

He can't imagine Suzaku's life was nearly as detrimental to his mental makeup as his own was. "It's was worse than that. I watched my mother get shot to death," he reminds, with a hardness in his gleaming violets that's new to Suzaku.

_Here's to trusting people. _"I stabbed my father."

Almost a full minute passes and Lelouch just _looks _at him, no particular expression in his eyes. "Genbu Kururugi, dying by his son's hand." He breathes. "Why did you do it?"

"I couldn't listen to him anymore. His ideas, I mean. I was sick of hearing him say we should keep resisting Britannia. Innocent people were dying." His leg is shaking; he makes no move to steady it. All of this has to get out of him some time or other. "He was a good man. I just—he was just—so wrong." He shakes his head, his eyes closed as he remembers his father's final words.

_You'll never understand, Suzaku._

And he had been right.

"My father," Lelouch began, entirely at random, "Is Charles zi Britannia." He figures it's time to let Suzaku know about that to at least alleviate his guilt, if only a little. He believes that, in a way perhaps letting out his secrets and hearing Suzaku's will bring them closer together.

"I thought so…" but he hadn't wanted it to be true; to think someone like Lelouch could come from someone so cruel, so emotionally inept, upsets him greatly. "I don't blame you for leaving that family… it's a lot like mine was. Your opinion wouldn't have mattered."

And Suzaku feels like an idiot because regardless of how strong he wants to be, those are definitely tears he's blinking back. So much time has passed since he first began to suppress those memories. Thankfully, he does manage to wipe the tears away before they become anything.

"Of course it wouldn't." Lelouch sits on the small ledge inside the shower, his head in his hands. "And they're still trying to take Nunnally away from me, not because they really care about her but because they want to get to me."

Brown eyebrows quirk up. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," he says flatly, remembering Schneizel's further badgering earlier this afternoon—well, technically, yesterday afternoon. "I'm not her legal guardian. I act _en loco parentis. _My sister Cornelia is her custodian, but she's so busy most of the time I proposed she live with me permanently."

"Do you think they'll be able to? Take her."

The older man shakes his head, looking completely lost. "I'm not sure. My lawyer fared very well last time and I demonstrated that all of her needs were met and she was never in any danger. My brothers are countering it on the basis that I am never around to spend time with her. And that she's been left in the care of a nanny for the majority of the time, and that she's Japanese and shouldn't be allowed to—" he watches the look that crosses Suzaku's face— "It upsets me too. She's very good to my sister. She even taught her how to fold that—oh, what do you call it—"

"Origami," Suzaku replies, looking raptly at his fingernails. He never imagined Lelouch really _worried _about Nunnally as it never comes up, but then again the entire business with his father never has, either. "You know, I… really have to agree about your never spending time with her. I-I don't mean to insult you, but you probably should."

"I've been trying to." And he can tell Lelouch means it. "She doesn't seem to want to talk to me the majority of the time."

"Maybe she just thinks it's awkward, you know. Girls that age—there's a lot of stuff going on with them."

Lelouch's nose crinkles. "I had C.C. give her the birds and bees talk a while back." Just like that they have left the ponderous conversation that, despite being beneficial to both of their consciences, cannot do much beyond upset them.

Suzaku doesn't really know much about how girls work, but whenever he spent the summer with his cousin Kaguya back in his sophomore year, he'd experienced her rampant mood swings and random crying. "They're hormonal."

And the use of the word _hormonal _to describe Nunnally hits Lelouch squarely in the solar plexus. He's aware she's not a little girl anymore, but of course outwardly it's not obvious, since she's such a happy soul and never mentions a desire for a boyfriend, or things of that nature. But, he decides, that doesn't mean she doesn't think about them. "…right." He squirts shampoo into his hand and scrubs languidly at his scalp, still trying to avoid notions of his darling sister burdened by the urges that accompany adolescence.

"I can talk to her, you know. I used to talk to Euphy about this stuff all the time."

"Your girlfriend talked about her… _period _with you?"

"Is it that hard to believe?" but then again the only real relationship with a woman Lelouch had was with C.C., who he can't imagine has blood in her veins, let alone a reproductive system. "Nah. It's really not that weird at all. She's your sister. It should even be easier."

A sigh; Lelouch just washes himself, not paying any more attention to the idea of Nunnally maturing in that way. Of all the things for him to fear, it had to be that.

However, it does occur to him that Suzaku cared to sit here and try to explain how to transcend the awkwardness and understand; he's very wise when it comes to people, a department in which his own abilities are deplorable. "Thank you for your advice."

"Sure." A smile that's much, much too kind. He doesn't deserve it.

Overall, he supposes Suzaku balances him out; while he's cold, Suzaku is outgoing and understanding; while he's book-smart, Suzaku knows down pat how to talk and work himself through things. It's a good idea to be with him.

But the question remains: does he want to hurt like this every time he thinks about Suzaku loving him? Is it really worth it to be pulverized by sorrow every time the boy tells him, unabashedly, that it's okay that he doesn't reciprocate those feelings, feeling that should _always _be mutual for a healthy relationship? Can he _ever_grow; develop enough to allow himself to feel things for the only person he would ever want to feel things for?

It's unclear. The affection Suzaku holds for him is genuine, clear, not marked by any underlying motive; it's as if inscribed within an elegantly bound book, typed in a language he can't read.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

And there you go~ the wait wasn't as long as last time, but the chapter was! :D I had a bit of trouble with its ordering, since I wrote some things before others, and then I had to move them around, etc etc. So between my Beta and myself let's hope I fixed all the continuity/grammar/syntax errors.

As for the nature of the chapter: Suzaku's letter was as hard for me to write as it was for "him" to write, especially around the end. I couldn't think of a good line to close it up, but then in the end it was very easy. I didn't want it to be too sappy either, though sometimes that can't really be avoided.

The premise for the next: "_There's something we need to discuss. It really can't wait." _There's a change, a rather pronounced one, about halfway in that will significantly alter the mood of the story, but is it for better or for worse? I don't quite know yet, either.

Oftentimes, with this story, I worry about consistency—not with grammar or style, or anything like that, but with emotional states. My own changes so rapidly I sometimes worry the characters are just as erratic, and I have to go back through the story and keep them steady – mostly Suzaku, because Lelouch is a mixed bag when it comes to that kind of stuff.

(1) Why do I suddenly have the urge to draw that fffff-

(2) Oh Gino, I think I may actually make you likeable in this story xD

(3) Lulu, you perv~

(4) I highly recommend this poem. It's beautiful, and like all of e.e. cummings' works, very unique in its structure. It's always been one of my favorites, especially the last line; it does make me think of Violetta.

Anyways, I sort of rushed this one because I wanted to update earlier—and on the same day as SLTM, my Bleach fanfiction (it's been over a year since it was updated). It's been a little over a month since this story was last updated and I think that's much better work on my part since last time.

c: I love everyone who reviewed last chapter, as well (and there were many of you). I try to reply to every review I get though I do miss people sometimes, due to missing the email or forgetting to reply. And thank you to all anon!reviewers as well. You mysterious people make me happy.

Until next time.


	9. why won't you fight for it

**Warnings: **Rambling, tangents, one sex scene, and the general inexperience with prose you've come to know me by.

––—∞—––

_I don't mind if you don't mind_

_'cause I don't shine if you don't shine_

_****__**violetta 9 **_  


Suzaku never dreamed Rivalz would actually start a band.

But, true to his word, the bluenette has gone off and left a terse little note on his door: _Gone off to practice. _Presumably, that means guitar. Puzzled, head cocked to the side, Suzaku stares at the sprawling orange handwriting and, in the end, plucks the sticky note off the door.

His plans for the afternoon (which had consisted of he and his best friend watching the movies he has tucked under his arm) foiled, Suzaku turns and walks quickly down the stairs of Amherst, evading being sighted by any of the more irritating young female residents who have taken a liking to him. Luckily, he succeeds and, once outside, zips up his coat for protection from the heavy snow dropping with increasing speed from the sky.

The electronic billboard above his head advertises a new kind of Coke; he breathes out, freezing, and pulls his hood over his head, trudging through the slush until he reaches the dark Hyundai parked at the corner.

It takes Lelouch a moment to see him, as the other is busy on his BlackBerry. "He isn't home?" Violet eyes glimmer behind his silver-rimmed glasses; Suzaku had grudgingly told Lelouch that he should probably spend more time with Rivalz. "Get in."

After greedily sucking in the warm air inside the car, Suzaku asks, "What now?"

The older male shakes his head inconclusively. "I didn't have anything planned, I thought you'd be staying there."

"Then why did you wait for me?"

"Call it wishful thinking." The car rumbles to life and Suzaku looks behind them for opposing vehicles.

"You're good. Rivalz said he's 'at practice'. He's probably off with Milly."

"She is a good-looking girl," Lelouch says airily, but he doesn't fail to catch Suzaku's sour expression. "I'm gay, not blind." He drives rather slowly, tires squelching through the snow in protest. Through the rearview window, he watches an unknowing Suzaku, whose face is rather dull. "I'm sure he'll be back home s—" he's silenced by a rather insistent buzzing against his hip. The illuminated screen of his phone reads **C.C. **"What?"

"Is that any way to talk to your best friend," she huffs. "Are you going to pick me up a pizza?"

Lelouch's face falls. "Are you… are you at my house?" Then Suzaku finally moves, mirroring his lover's downtrodden expression.

"I have to be. My '_wonderful and lovely' _mother kicked me out."

Lelouch does nothing to detract the statement he always made some years ago; truly, Mrs. Madron was a wonderful and lovely woman—Lelouch himself would kick C.C. out at the drop of a hat were he not plagued by the irreversible feeling of being responsible for her. "I'm bringing Suzaku back with me, so please be dressed."

C.C. scoffs. "What time?"

"Later."

"When's l—" _Click._

Suzaku looks at him with that righteous face on again. "You shouldn't hang up on her."

A rough breath escapes Lelouch at that. "If only you could _understand_ why I have to."

"I know you think she's annoying," the brunet begins, tentatively though he has a good idea of what he wants to say, "But imagine you were as lonely as she is. Wouldn't you want someone to talk to?"

"Su_zaku._" The professor struggles to keep the derision out of his voice. "You're talking about her like she's some trapped animal. She has the means to go out and meet people, for gods' sake. It's her own personal choice to sit around and annoy me for days on end, _regardless _of how sedentary you may think she is."

"Fine, fine," Suzaku replies, his brows knitting, "But you could be a little less mean about it is all I'm saying." He hikes his foot up onto the leather seat and re-ties his tattered shoe. "I'd be nice to her."

"You're nice to everyone," Lelouch reminds a bit brashly, taking sharper left than was necessary. "It's a mixed blessing." He tips his head to the side and smiles gently, albeit tiredly, at Suzaku, who returns the expression though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Come now, don't be mad at me."

"I'm not, I…" the boy exhales, meshing the fingers of both hands together. "I'm worried about Euphy."

_Not this again. _It's a powerful battle Lelouch fights with himself, on an almost-daily basis, to avoid showing his blatant and shameless disdain for Suzaku's ex-girlfriend, or face the wrath of those oh-so-expressive green eyes and cast-iron will, only to surrender for fear of alienation from his young lover. "…what's wrong with her?"

"Nothing, I just." Suzaku twiddles his thumbs in a movement both cliché and surprisingly genuine, "I just think she's still in love with me. I—I know you don't want to hear about her, but—"

Lelouch says nothing, just stares out at the powdery road ahead; _hm, they're selling pasta at the Safeway for half price. _Next time he makes gratin, he'll have to invest in some so the cheese won't look quite so watery on top of the noodles.

Watching Lelouch ogle advertisements, Suzaku glowers, his chapped lips pushing together. "But it's important to me."

_Fuck._

"Suzaku, what exactly has you so worried about Euphemia?" laying a bit too much sugar on his pitch, Lelouch taps against the curve of the steering wheel as a backward sort of self-reprimand. However Suzaku takes no notice, just barrels into a list of concerns.

"She's been working really hard in school, and I think she's really worried about her grades. And me. She says she thinks about me a lot. I think she's still in love with me."

Lelouch hopes but doubts Suzaku doesn't take note of how his foot edges harder against the gas, or how the car speeds forward with a noise one would typically hear while watching _Nascar. _"And what on God's green earth do you want me to do about it?"

The motor must be acting up, because it's growling; oh fuck, that's Suzaku. "You could at least _pretend _to care. God knows you're a good actor and I'll be damned if you just sit here and lop off everything I care about just because it hurts your feelings!"

"It doesn't hurt my feelings." Lelouch sniffs, turning onto Yardman Avenue. "Now, do you want to go out for coffee, or…?"

"Stop the car."

"You're overreacting."

"Now."

After a moment of being pulverized by the very pair of green eyes he lamented facing earlier, Lelouch breathes out in a swift release of cool air and turns into the parking lot of a gas station. Suzaku can't get out or slam the door fast enough.

"Suzaku," he begins, following the boy, "Where exactly do you think you're going?"

"Away from you," Suzaku says, his voice unhinged with raw flickers of anger that burst at Lelouch much harder than he thought they would. "God, Lelouch, you can't—I can listen to _your _worries and _your _concerns but the second I feel _anything _you don't—it doesn't even _matter _to you."

Lelouch stares.

"But I guess this whole relationship is just the epitome of equality," he rolls his eyes and hoists his hood up, shaking his head. "Look at you, right now, with that blank look on your face. Do you have anything to say at _all_?"

Lelouch closes his eyes, his heart thumping quietly but feverishly beneath the thin planes of his chest. When he speaks, the words are stark, dehydrated by the freezing air.

"The only thing I did was tell you I couldn't do anything about what happened between you and Euphemia, damn it. _You _were the one who blew up about it, and _you _were the one who started to try to fire me up. Pray tell, Suzaku, if you are so painfully worried about her, why don't you drive your happy ass down to Cromwell and take her back?"

He sees Suzaku's eyes narrow, at the initial processing of those acidic words, and then pull open as large as they always are when he's feeling like this, too downtrodden with emotion to function properly. The look he gives Lelouch while he's being cut down by insults is remarkably similar to the expression that he wears in those rosy-hued moments when 'I love you' falls in a slightly accented voice from that winter-worn mouth, (however a bit more subtly, as the latter usually happens when he's in various states of undress).

Perhaps it's because unlike Lelouch, Suzaku is able to let the proverbial wall drop, to allow his bare emotional foundation to stand ready for whatever perils it is set to face.

"Because if I did that I'd be too busy thinking about you. You know that. I just—I—god." He stares at his shoes, sweating dark as they are exposed to the (previously) untouched snow. Every line of that face is puckered, flushed, as he stares, eyes closed, at the ground, and subconsciously Lelouch envies the raw _feeling _the boy emanates; and he wants, strongly, to genuinely harness that same self-confidence, however, this manifests itself as:

(_hostility)_

"Would you really?" Lelouch asks sharply, undoubtedly intending to wound the other boy, but of course, he's unsuccessful, as Suzaku sees right through all of that.

"I've told you before, I left her for you." For a moment the Japanese teen recalls their talk from last week, and how he tried so hard to drill these very same points into Lelouch's head; perhaps the older isn't as bright as his attitude (and résumé) boast. "I wanted _you_. But when I promise someone I'll be there for them, I mean it." He looks up at last. "Do you understand?"

"Of course I understand." And he does; then, hell must be freezing over, because Lelouch Lamperouge, PhD, feels stupid. "I just can't sympathize with that." Conversely, the fervent look Lelouch gives Suzaku when he admits his shortcomings is somehow similar to the mask he dons while whispering engaging and often awe-inspiring things as substitution for his own inability to utter 'those three words'.

However, thinking about it, they're one in the same.

"I know you can't," with a wry look, Suzaku edges through the snow to stand closer to the taller male, watching the dark head whip up as he approaches. "Because you're—"

"Fucked up?" his eyebrows raise. "You needn't point it out."

Suzaku looks hurt, his mouth gaping wide like that of a child being told he can't have ice cream before dinner. The boy stumbles over his words, shaking that brown head with uninhibited enthusiasm as he flounders at reassurance, "No, that's not what I was going to say at all, you're—you're like all the rest of us, we all have problems—you can't sympathize, and I can't… well, I can't…"

"Pass Biochemistry 3C." Lelouch smiles crookedly, secretly reveling in how Suzaku's given him another wonderful show of how salutary he can be in certain situations. "Really, Suzaku, I understand." His hand, bones taut with the starchy coldness of winter, touches wet brown hair.

And it's clear, once Lelouch has been reassured that it's all okay, that Suzaku's dreams (following nights of studying for exams and being heckled by Clovis) feature himself in the leading role, he smiles, the offensive part of his brain shutting down as that collection of cruel blather he uttered before was really a

(_defense mechanism)_

"I don't doubt that you understand." Suzaku's mouth tightens. "But maybe you could find a better way of expressing yourself."

"What better way is there than writing?"

"I meant in your social life." The brunet folds his arms around himself, teeth chattering just a bit. "You don't have to attack people when you get jealous. All that does is make them resent you."

He fights to keep back the laugh so insistently pressing against his voice box. "And you so _clearly _resent me, Suzaku."

"_I—"_ Suzaku darkens. "That's not what I meant. If you didn't want to hear about Euphy because it hurt you, you could've just told me. I wouldn't have judged you."

The truth has a certain ring to it, especially when spoken by Suzaku. "It isn't as hurtful as it is annoying. What did she have to say when she came to visit you?"

Something that's both a shiver and a thoughtful sigh escapes through Suzaku's chattering teeth. "Well. Exactly what you'd expect. Basically that she wants to be with me, and that she could forgive me for my mistake…"

_She _was the mistake, in Lelouch's eyes; of course the boy will have none of that. "That's very humble of her," he bites out. "Did you explain that it wasn't one?"

"I insisted," is the reply, tinged with noticeable hostility. "Do you think I'd throw you under the bus like that, Lelouch… I said I wanted to be with you. Now I am. She should work on being happy too, but she isn't. _That's _the main reason why I'm so worried." His cheeks hollow, shortly, as the quips of his and Euphemia's conversation rush through his mind yet again, verbatim version of course garbled by forgetfulness; yet the words still press their meaning upon him. "I'm sorry I made you pull over, it's—that was a bad judgment call."

Indeed, Lelouch's Hyundai is occupying the spot next to the only available gas pump; a few cars wait around, one of them honking its horn from time to time. "No, I think it was justified. Especially since I told you that you were blowing it out of proportion."

"I was, though," Suzaku says adamantly. "We could've just gone for coffee if I hadn't kept talking about her. I—I'll keep it to myself from now on."

Sometimes, Lelouch hates himself for being so human. "If it's important to you," he breathes in, cold air hitting his throat rather harshly, "We can talk about it, I suppose." Suzaku had sat through his endless tirades about C.C., and of course that revealing conversation pertaining to Nunnally, without saying a word and in fact giving him advice. It's only fair.

And while he may be a self-serving, manipulative bastard, Lelouch is a sucker for fair.

"Is this where I say 'kiss me, you fool'?" Suzaku says sarcastically.

"This is where you say 'Lelouch, I'd love it if we could go and get coffee'."

"Really? I thought I could improvise a little."

"Get in the car, Suzaku."

––—∞—––

The diner they settle on is a small place with dark flowering wallpaper on the walls and a nice scent, like grapefruit and pine. Suzaku thinks it would be a prime place for a writer to sit and consider what will make his book jump from the page, or whatever other strange phrases they use. He'll ask Lelouch later.

The server, Cecile, is a cheerful blue-haired young woman in a gray-blue apron. She has small hands with which she writes up their order, black coffee (Lelouch) and a sundae loaded with toppings (Suzaku). Whenever she leaves, the brunet murmurs, "I know that woman from somewhere."

"She's in your class," Lelouch says, his eyes roving gently over the menu. "One day, earlier this year, she turned in a project late, it nearly cost her the entire grading period." He unwraps his utensils and arranges them slightly to his left. "Isn't it remarkable? People apply for Pendragon planning to excel and focus only on schoolwork… then get swallowed up by some usually-idiotic distraction halfway through the first term."

Suzaku looks at him. "I guess you must be the exception. To the usually-idiotic distractions, I mean."

Violet eyes twinkle. "Maybe so."

The coffee and sundae arrive; the brunet digs in with vigor, this being the first time he's consumed anything since setting off for Rivalz's this morning. Lelouch sips menially at his coffee. "D'you think I'm really failing Biochemistry?"

"It isn't my business to say. Furthermore, I don't talk much with Gottwald, so even if I wanted to I couldn't tell you." He and the other professor had gotten in a bit of a scuffle when he was, actually, around Suzaku's age—over a girl, no less. He smirks lightly at that. "Just try and work a bit. You know, when we don't see each other."

"Mm." Suzaku chews on a cherry. "I'm still sort of worried about C.C., though. What if she's hurt?"

"Suzaku. If you recall, the last time you pushed being worried about a woman we got into an argument," the older says lightly.

"I know, but." The brunet stares into his sundae, watching the chocolate sauce slink down the lumps of vanilla ice cream into a pool at the bottom, where it joins the mixture of other flavors. "Maybe she ate too much pizza and had a heart attack."

"Mrrr." Lelouch is busy with his phone. "If it bothers you so much I'll call her right now." When Suzaku's face lights up, Lelouch smiles drolly as he presses the phone to his ear, because chocolate lingers at the corners of his lover's lips.

A rustle; her voice is short, terse. "What."

"Don't snap at me that way; Suzaku wanted me to call and make sure you hadn't hurt yourself," he says, laissez-faire as he plucks a cherry from Suzaku's confection and rolls it between his thumb and index, watching the bright red juice stain white fingers.

"Tell him I'm fine," she replies, with little emotion. "Waiting for you to bring me my dinner. There isn't any food here, you know."

"I saw something about half-price pasta," Lelouch replies absentmindedly, watching Suzaku move his spoon _clink-clink _about the tall glass, searching for more cherries. "I'll be home… say, in about an hour and a half."

"With my pizza."

"With your pizza," he promises without much thought, "Or my credit card, should I choose to forget about it altogether."

"_Choose _to forget?"

_Click._

Suzaku stares. "You were doing well right up until the end," he says with muted disappointment, more interested in the search for the red orb-shaped fruit. "I think you should sit in on Sociology with me one day. It might help."

"Whenever I get finished 'tutoring' you," he sighs in-mock disappointment.

"And Rolo," the brunet reminds, pushing his spoon into the ice cream to signal he's finished with it. "I'm not really that sure about him. Gino didn't seem to care that he had the letter but the Dean might."

"What'd he do, make copies?" Lelouch laughs in all seriousness; but his face falls when he sees Suzaku's somber expression (somewhat undermined by the chocolate mustache).

"This is serious. You could get fired." He tries to impress as much sincerity upon Lelouch as he possibly can, but it's clear those efforts were wasted as the taller plucks a napkin from the metal box to his right and stands, leaning over to wipe at the brunet's sullied mouth. "I'm not five, by the way."

"Compared to me, you certainly are," the older teases, evoking another deadpan from Suzaku and then reassuring him without a hitch, "Don't you worry about Rolo. It'll be very easy to get rid of him in the end. But if the wait's too much for you, you could always… well, expedite the process."

Chestnut brows rise up. "How's that?"

"It's simple, really." He pushes his empty cup of coffee to the side. "Classic methods. Divert his attention. Make him focus on someone else."

Doubting that scheme (as it never would've worked on him had Rivalz or Shirley chosen to implement it), Suzaku grouses, "That never works, Lelouch. The heart wants what it wants."

Lelouch sighs. "Or, in this situation, the eyes. Rolo's shallow, it won't take him long to… move on." He laughs gently, airily. "I'm sorry, I—I happened to remember the other day. Whenever you were under the desk."

"What about it?"

"Rolo. He was—he seemed to think _he _was the one who was – ah, what an idiot." Suzaku watches in amazement as Lelouch laughs openly over something he'd normally peg 'infantile', 'insipid', or many other words with the prefix 'in' he's so accustomed to using in his debauches. "I fear for your generation, Suzaku, I really do. Regardless, I think it's a lovely idea for him to find a new fixation… what about Euphemia?"

"Won't work." Suzaku picks up his spoon, having regained interest in the rapidly melting sundae before him. "She… she's not over me yet, I don't think." Though it had been clear, when they spoke, that that was a gross understatement; the devotion in her eyes, stemming plainly from her words and movements, had driven his stomach into a twisting vortex of guilt-induced indigestion. Lelouch keeps his eyes trained on him, able to predict that very same thing by just watching the subtle changes on that tan face.

Because Suzaku really is that transparent sometimes.

"I can't blame her." Lelouch's sooty lashes hide most of his eyes when his head is dipped down like that; but Suzaku knows were that sanguine face to look up into his, that mellifluous gaze would be peppered with that specific brand of undiluted adoration contrived solely for him. "You _are _amazing, after all."

The sundae has a bit of trouble going down; his complexion is shot through with red. "Lelouch, please."

With stolen glances at Suzaku's reddening ears, Lelouch just smiles. "You've always been a bit odd, but with a sense of _justice _unlike that of anyone I've ever seen. You take a lot of things you don't deserve and," suddenly his playfulness has been replaced by a more stern tone, "I think you're a bit misguided."

"Misguided…about…what?" the brunet question, the spoon muffling his speech.

_About me. _They've already fought once today but Lelouch just can't bring himself to put the matter to rest. "The government, for one. Pronunciations of certain words. And, perhaps most importantly, your current relationship."

Immediately, Suzaku is groaning. "Please, not now. Just—not now." Anger ebbs away, because what good will it really do in the end? He stares at the tabletop, willing the heavens to end Lelouch's latest episode of self-degradation. "We can talk when we get home."

At that, the Britannian's face softens; that Suzaku is willing to call his residence on Arbordale _home_—well, that changes things. Still, while Suzaku may not think of it the same way, each and every argument they plunge into is a challenge—and Lelouch never backs down from a challenge. "Like I said before. Things that you don't deserve_. _Like the company of a man who does nothing but string you along."

Moments pass and there is nothing but the clinking of Suzaku's spoon. Deep forest eyes watch so intently the piece of silverware as he dips it into the ice cream then places it in his mouth. Then, Suzaku gets up and walks away.

Lelouch may not be able to resist a challenge, but Suzaku sure can.

He sits back in his seat, toying idly with the silverware at his disposal. Perhaps it had been childish of him to dredge up their issues for the second time today—okay, so it had _definitely _been childish, probably even infantile. Suzaku's nonchalant attitude concerning the lack of romance in their relationship is in a very acute way frightening to Lelouch, who had thought the brunet a pinnacle of all things cliché and predictable when it came to feelings.

It brings him to the conclusion that by disregarding his own blatant standoffishness, Suzaku is merely settling.

Then again, doesn't it make sense? Suzaku settles for many things, most notable being his less-than-laudable treatment from the (frankly) deplorable members of Britannian society. It's always floored Lelouch how gently he backs off from their insults ("_I don't want to hurt them, they don't know any better") _and sometimes even justifies the behavior (_"I really don't have a right to go to school with any of them"). _But any well-executed arguments against this points, on his part, have resulted in nothing but Suzaku reassuring him he's fine with it, just as he did concerning their relationship the other night and once or twice before.

(_In Lelouch's mind, it's just inconceivable that anyone could possibly be fine with getting less than what they deserve.)_

The brunet returns, his face a mask of forced composure. "So, do you want to get something to eat, or…? I'm kind of hungry, Rivalz said he'd make me lunch, but."

Lelouch looks up, and meets his eyes. "Suzaku, what's stopping you?"

"Well, I guess you are, I didn't bring my wallet—"

"No. What's stopping you from fighting for it?"

Bewilderment knits chestnut brows; Suzaku's head tilts. "Fighting for what?" he's used to Lelouch's spontaneous inspirational tirades; after all in a way, he's always thought the older considers himself something of a motivational speaker, and humoring him has always been potentially rewarding as the long stretches of wisdom often help him with day-to-day issues.

"For your rights."

The brunet's eyes close. "In this country, I don't have any rights. It's like you said—their minds are poisoned. Quit worrying about me, okay?" his voice lightens and he plucks up his menu, forcing himself to appear interested in it. Lelouch has brought this up a few times before, and each time he's succeeded in debauching him either by changing the subject or by repeatedly assuring him of his well-being; the latter seems to work more often, as Lelouch is very rarely swayed from the task at hand.

"I can't help it." When Lelouch speaks he finds his voice issuing through the thin stifle of gritted teeth. "It's because of my father," he gets quieter, "That you had to leave Area 11. The stigmas you face every single day are a result of _selfish _people who have never seen the real world, let alone experienced it enough to see how things work. Don't make excuses for them."

Suzaku breathes out and inhales; the grapefruit whiff in the air reminds him of where they are, reminds him not to get into a heated-discussion with Lelouch right now. Still he overrides his conscience. "I'm not making excuses for anyone. I'm glad you care so much, but it's not something either of us can change and to tell you the truth, it _really _doesn't bother me."

"That's impossible," the exiled prince scoffs, his violet eyes locking to Suzaku's. "You've always been one to play things down."

His lover reaches forward for the water the waitress left while he was in the bathroom, and drinks. "You're wrong again, Lelouch. I'm not playing down or accepting anything. The way things are, you're the _only _Britannian whose opinion matters to me. The others—they're not worth it." Yes, their sneers and thinly veiled prejudice do get under his skin, but its impact does not extend beyond a minor annoyance akin to finding gum stuck to the bottom of one of his runners. The words and actions of Lelouch, however, are the ones that adhere and repeat in his mind, a velvet-trimmed soundtrack playing to influence his very being.

This seems to sate the previously incensed prince; his violet eyes thin out again and long fingers toy with a straw. "Your attachment to me is… a mystery," he finally says.

"You think so, too?" Suzaku's smile is dim, but genuine. "Like I said in the letter, I never dreamed of any of this… but I wouldn't want it any other way."

The server reappears, cutting short the beginning of Lelouch's next speech. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Yes."

After taking down Suzaku's order, she disappears once more.

"I think we've done enough arguing for the day," muses the Japanese boy, giving Lelouch a pointed look. "Don't you?"

Trepidation slinks over Lelouch's features; Suzaku, the fool, is an epitome of history repeating. As negative as the thought is, Lelouch toys with the idea that perhaps Suzaku will never see sense; that the way he was raised, or perhaps his own self-discipline, will forever render him immune to new perspectives. However, he wills himself to comply with the younger's wish, if only for now. "I suppose you're right. It's not getting us anywhere." That part is true, at least. "How are your classes?"

"I'm not failing anything." He sucks at the last of the water, his straw making unseemly noises. "Professor Gottwald says I should work a little harder to keep the place clean, though. We dissected mice last week and I left my scalpel out."

Lelouch tuts. "Forgetful as always. Though I can't say if I were you I wouldn't try get revenge on Jeremiah."

"I was just thinking maybe next time I'll just drip mouse blood all over the floor."

"That will please the janitorial staff." The older smiles vapidly, his mind in other places; places he visited just a few minutes before deep within his mental annex, concerning Suzaku's fruitless acceptance of deplorable and sometimes barbaric behavior.

People with intellects like his often generalize that they're always right, after all.

––—∞—––

Almost exactly one day later, Suzaku is sitting on his bed tapping away at the keyboard of his laptop when—

Knock. Knock, knock.

He wills the visitor to go away (it must be someone coming to bother him since Clovis's friends, or lack thereof, never come calling) and hangs his head, focusing on the sound of his fingers on the keys.

"I know you're in there~" calls Gino's voice; Suzaku's brow furrows. "I can hear you typing!"

Suzaku wonders why the older boy even bothers with being annoying, since he has a master key to every dorm anyway. Maybe, hidden underneath all that blonde hair, is a sadistic bastard who takes pleasure in getting on other peoples' nerves. "Ah, could you come back a little later?" he says, as politely as possible. "I'm busy."

"You're always busy!" (Gino only knows this because he's come knocking on Suzaku's door three or four times this week, he's already lost count.) "Don't you ever take time for yourself?"

_Not nearly enough. _Suzaku continues writing his essay, trying to write a succinct outline without going off on a tangent as he tends to do (those were Lelouch's exact words) while attempting to tune out the annoyingly cheery voice that will soon monopolize his attention.

Eventually the door opens and there he is, the annoying RA who, despite everything pointing against it, still found the time to be a total nuisance.

"What's that you're working on?" Gino asks effervescently, plopping onto the bed next to the shorter male as he taps away on his laptop. Suzaku wonders if there's some rule against RAs randomly coming in whenever they want. "Term paper?"

The brunet licks his lips and fixes the typos he's made since Gino started distracting him. "For Professor Lamperouge."

"Ahhhh."

Then Suzaku looks over at him, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing!" blue eyes twinkle a bit knowingly, and Gino gets up to waltz into the kitchen. "Boy, am I hungry! Have any pizza?"

"It's old," the Japanese teen warns, his voice a bit feeble since most of his brain power is concentrated on remembering the other day, when Gino had looked so adoringly at him whenever he was fighting with Rolo. "Say Gino… how well do you know the new transfer? Next door?"

"I don't, really." He can hear clinking as Gino looks through the soda. "Still, he made me really mad that one day he called you—well, that name. Some people just don't realize that's not right… lucky for me, I work for Dean Carlan. He's got a good eye for prejudice." With that, he slinks back onto the bed and sits close enough to Suzaku so their legs touch, chugging at one of the health drinks Clovis has been bringing back of late. "He's a nasty little guy, Rolo. People around here will have him put in his place soon enough, don't you worry."

"I—I wasn't. I mean, I'm used to being called that but…"

A soft breath; Gino seems on-edge. "I'm sorry I wrote you guys up on my report. It—I'm just supposed to report anything suspicious, you know."

"It's okay," Suzaku breathes, trying to focus on the screen but finding his eyesight compromised. With a thud, he shuts the laptop.

"You stopped tutoring with Professor Lamperouge, I noticed. Is something wrong?"

"I guess I started understanding the work." And the smile that escapes him is not artificial, stemming from the picture-perfect reels of memory that play in his head whenever someone questions him about Lelouch.

The blond chugs his drink, then puts it on the bedside table. His face is rather impassive for a few minutes. "I'm glad I got that off my chest, Suzaku. I was hoping—maybe we could be friends?" And the vulnerability so poorly concealed behind that chipper voice is what causes Suzaku's face to soften, and for his mouth to fold upward.

"Sure. I don't see why not."

"Great!" A huge smile, full of teeth. "You know, most of the freshman here are annoying. But you, you're quiet."

"I just like to focus," he explains, "I'm not that much of a partier." Moreover, oddly enough, that train of thought brings him back to Rivalz; where exactly is the bluenette, anyway? He pulls his phone from his pocket and types out a quick _hey _to his third-most favorite person in the world (behind Lelouch and his grandmother, of course). "Do you not like any of the juniors?"

Gino lies back on the bed; Suzaku wonders what part of him is allowing the older boy to invade his personal space like this, but unbelievably, a small part of him is comforted by Gino. It's not every day he meets someone so happy and positive; Lelouch's antics and Rivalz's complaints about the single life have to be balanced out somehow, don't they? "Ah, well… I guess it all started _my _first year. Something happened; I was blamed for it. We had a different Dean then. He didn't like me. My class doesn't, either, now."

All Suzaku can manage is: "I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's—stuff happens." Robin's egg eyes drift over to Suzaku, who's sitting upright with his back bent just the tiniest bit. Gino's always heard that the Japanese are reserved by nature, but Suzaku worries him. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Suzaku has pretty eyes, he finds. "Nothing. I'm just thinking."

"About Professor Lamperouge?"

And those pretty eyes widen.

"You—"

A self-assured smile; Gino sits up. "I can tell you like him, you know? No offense, but you're kind of transparent."

So, the jig is up—something cloys in his chest, near his heart. "What?"

"Maybe I'm imagining it, I don't know." The RA shrugs and toys with his sleeve. "But it's… the way you act around him's a lot like the way… mmf." It's strange, really, how someone so brimming with positive energy and vivacity can blush so heavily, the cheerful peach of his skin stained red. "Can I tell you a secret? You have to promise you won't tell anyone."

Suddenly he has returned to the days of whispered secrets and playground monkey bars; in spite of himself, Suzaku nods, leaning close though it's only him and Gino.

"I liked a professor, once."

The lightness of the confession is a bit surprising to Suzaku, whose ears had been perked with anticipation. "Did you act on it?"

Gino stares at the carpeting, and it's clear the memories are playing behind his eyes. "Yeah, but he was much older, of course. So naturally, I don't think he took me seriously. I mean, I thought he did, but—when there were older people around he would change completely. Like—like I was simpler than them." That perpetually flouncing voice is somber, bitter with regret that blossoms into some morose flower with each passing word. Suzaku sits, morbidly curious. "Eventually, I think he realized it wouldn't ever go beyond what we already had. He ended it."

Between processing the words and wondering what exactly has possessed Gino to begin this narrative about a past relationship, Suzaku's breathing grows a bit labored. "Do you speak to him anymore?"

"I can't, I'm not a freshman." Gino has a tiny dimple, high on his right cheek; or perhaps it's just a scar. "I think you might have him, though… Professor Gottwald."

His mind drifts to his Biochemistry 3 instructor, and, without a hitch, he begins to slot the older male and Gino into the same series of events that led he and Lelouch to where they were now. But of _course _it must have been different with them…? "If you don't mind my asking, uh, how did you meet?"

"At a science fair. I—I was actually still in high school—" he laughs then, probably remembering some tiny detail that hasn't graced his conscious mind since then— "I did an experiment with compounds, electron diagrams, that kind of stuff. It wasn't really the normal kind of science fair; more of a test, really. They wanted to see if I should be in advanced placement. Jerem—Professor Gottwald was a judge. But he gave me 3 out of 10 and ruined my chances… so I was put in his class with the rest of the normal freshman."

He can see it now; Gino, young and smiling brightly, excited at the prospect that they've even considered him for such a high level class—and shot down by a total stranger, pride damaged and work ethic somewhat compromised from then on. "And then what?"

An airless laugh. "And then everything. I liked him a lot, but he was hard to get close to, you know. I worked harder and I got more involved with clubs, and stuff like that. He didn't like me, I knew he didn't."

Suzaku has never expressly tried to become friends with Professor Gottwald, having spent the majority of that class time sleeping, harassing Rivalz for advice, or, when there was nothing more productive to focus on, working. "But it changed, right?"

Gino's eyes close. "One day, he just—he said I'd never be class president. That I'd 'never be tactful or witty' enough. I told him I'd do anything… weirdly enough, I didn't feel guilty or upset after… I got the presidency and in the end it all worked out fine. Quid pro quo and all."

Glassy green eyes flick uncertainly over that face; those clear blue eyes, that mouth that moves so slowly as it verbalizes what's clearly been eating at him for so long. "You didn't… the idea that he was using you didn't hurt?"

The blond smiles a bit dryly, shrugging one shoulder. "After a little while, it wasn't like that anymore. You know how these stories work out. People get to know each other. But." He gets up, going to the fridge to pilfer another drink, "Like I said… it never really went beyond liking. For him, or me. I couldn't love someone who didn't love me."

A strange feeling lies heavily against Suzaku's ribs; maybe it's regret, or perhaps indigestion from all the rice he ate earlier. "Lelouch gets really upset when I tell him that doesn't matter to me."

"Doesn't it?" Gino looks at him strangely; it almost reminds him of the look Lelouch gives him when they talk about this very same thing. "You must really love him, then."

"I do…" Suzaku is nearly overcome by the desire to spill it all, voice every qualm and concern he's ever had concerning the literature bon vivant to Gino right here, right now, free up some space in that already-cluttered heart beating beneath his currently heavy ribs. However, he just says, "He's a great guy," in a thick voice.

"Wish it worked out that well for me," Gino says wistfully, his blue eyes still holding that dull sheen from his story about a love lost. "Now, let me help you with this essay…"

––—∞—––

Lelouch tutors Rolo that Saturday.

With a heavy heart, he unlocks the door to his deserted classroom, flicking on the light and placing his briefcase inside his office door, so it won't fall victim to a kleptomaniac's antics again. Planting his coffee on the desk in front of him, he sits, donning his glasses and waiting for his least favorite guest.

The knock sounds approximately three-and-a-half minutes later; Lelouch had passed the time by drawing tiny diamonds on a tiny booklet labeled _University of Pendragon: Rules and Regulations. _He smiles as kindly as he can when the boy enters, dressed more casually than usual in a dark sweatshirt and light jeans. "Good afternoon, Rolo."

"Professor Lamperouge," is the clipped reply; Rolo sits lightly and crosses his legs. The older man resists the urge to groan at his over theatrical movements, but keeps that demure smile silted across his lips until the boy says something else. "Can we get started quickly? There's a lot I need help with." A leer dominates his heart-shaped face, purplish eyes agleam as if he knows something the older male doesn't. This disconcerts Lelouch on a powerful level, to the point where a rather awkward phrase formulates itself in his head.

"Certainly. But there's something we need to discuss, it really can't wait." He's not sure what's possessed him to breach the matter with him, as the results could be potentially problematic, but this is one of those situations in which that super-powered brain of his fizzles just a bit, gives way to emotional response and, in essence, betrays him since he's always tried to avoid direct confrontation whenever possible. "Suzaku spoke to me a few days ago."

"I'm sure he did, you're his tutor," Rolo says rather brightly, reaching into his pocket to pluck up the green pen Lelouch has always seen him use. The color only reminds him of Suzaku, which puts his heart into the conversation a bit more.

"About you, he said that you'd made a few… a few _false allegations," _he pushes as delicately as possible, struggling to keep the derision off his face.

"Suzaku does seem a bit pigheaded. Are you sure he didn't make that up?"

"I'm certain," Lelouch said, voice as clipped as his patience. "He told me that in front of his RA, you said you were under the impression that Suzaku and I are having sex."

From here on, a switch is flipped.

"Professor," the boy drawls. "I am not under the impression, I _know _you're fucking, but as I'm sure your _dear _Suzaku told you, I can't do a single thing about it since this University's disciplinary tactics are very, very misguided. Now, would you like to tutor me as was the original purpose of our meeting?"

For the first time in many a month finding his mind devoid of all possible comebacks to use against Rolo, Lelouch merely counters with his own issue, "But there's one thing you seem to have left out, Mr. Haliburton—you stole from mesome weeks ago."

Rolo's eyes sneer along with his mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about, Professor."

"One black attaché case with my name lacquered across the front. It contained files important to the school, including student records that, had you held onto them, would've been enough to get you expelled for tampering with records. Suzaku took it back from you on my orders. However should I choose to casually mention it to Dean Carlan… well, let's just say he's almost as fond of me as you are… Rolo." And this time he can't fight the feelings and a self-assured smile paints itself on pale lips.

A fast sweep of air, gashed halfway out by Rolo's gritting teeth. "What I found in that briefcase would definitely override my having taken it from you. Dean Carlan may not hear my case but the school board would love to hear about how much your Eleven likes you touching him."

The moment that passes is much too long; it seems almost like an hour; Lelouch's hand curls flush underneath the desk, forming a fist—however his words are nothing more than a simple statement of fact, not the cutting diatribe he'd been planning to verbalize. "Seems to me we're on equal footing." And the pronounced way they're both leaning across the desk at each other is rather eerie; one would liken them to a pair of rattlesnakes about to strike. "A compromise is in order, hm?" Lelouch fights to keep venom from bleeding into his voice, but it does anyway, and Rolo takes to it like a dying fish returned to water.

"Yes," he grinds out, "Compromise indeed. What's the asking price for your dignity?"

The patrician face remains relaxed; gaining an air he'd picked up in childhood, while watching the royals around him debate so effortlessly, Lelouch crosses his legs and laces his fingers together in his lap. "I want you to keep quiet about Suzaku and I. As painful as this may be for you, it's him I want, and that is the way it will stay. I also want you to return to me any copies of the letter you may have made as well as any and all notes you took this semester."

Rolo's face remains impassive for a few moments; he hadn't made copies of that grammatically butchered love note but now he curses himself for not thinking of it on his own. "Why my notes?" he asks finally.

"Well, because." Lelouch's right leg sways a bit; he's enjoying this a little too much. He does not give any reasoning for his last request.

"My conditions," the fawn-haired boy cuts across him, more sharply than before. It was never really established that Rolo would have requirements of his own, but Lelouch isn't above a few simple requests if his are met. "You are to come with me to dinner."

Lips fold into some sort of macabre smile. "I suppose I could live through one evening with you, Rolo." Inside his stomach has gone cold at the notion of being in close proximity with this boy for a few hours time; and he's already been doing it for some weeks now, too. Still it is his (and Suzaku's) retribution for being careless. "Where?"

He thinks it over. "It'll be a surprise. Be at my door at seven o'clock tomorrow night." A leer casts across his mouth and the Professor returns it with that pretty nonchalance. "Don't be late."

While his heart is relaxing because he'd _really _been expecting something a bit more abrasive than a meal, Lelouch still won't tolerate hanging around longer than he has to. "Let's make this clear. I am eating with you, and then I am going home," the older outlines rather tersely, getting to his feet and striding into his office. "Suzaku and I have plans tomorrow night, after all." To go out to dinner; but now it's evident he's going to have to rework that schedule, since most of Pendragon's good restaurants close early (by his estimation, Rolo will drag the ordeal out until around 10:30, and even that view is optimistic).

"Of course." Somewhere inside his head, Rolo formulates another image of Suzaku being very _vocal _and _whiny _underneath Lelouch, as he himself most certainly wouldn't be. He still can't get over the fact that the professor chose _Suzaku _over him, but—all in due time. "Looking forward to it, Professor. Now, what about Plato?"

Violet hues flicker with derision. "It's very clear you have an exemplary understanding of _everything _we've covered in my class. I'm not naïve, Mr. Haliburton." He lingers in the doorway of his office, leaning against the frame. "In fact, if you didn't have so much evidence to convict me, I most definitely would've rattled off about you to Carlan by now, as well."

"I'd expect nothing less of you." He smiles. "Lelouch. Is it okay that I call you that? Suzaku does." _Lelouch.. oh Lelouch! _He can't stop these tiny glimpses into their sex life because of course, he's honestly curious about the older man's talent in that area. It's no doubt grand, if Suzaku would dump a girl he loved for him. That he had found out by catching sight of Rivalz Cardemonde's annoyingly large handwriting as he and Suzaku passed notes nearly every day, in this classroom with the broken globe.

"You and Suzaku are very different in my eyes," the older reminds him, somewhat arrogantly.

"When did he start calling you Lelouch?"

Lelouch thinks that over. "I told him to. A few days after we met. He didn't want to."

He can see it now; Suzaku so adamantly rejecting Lelouch's advances only to slowly succumb to his deep voice, hypnotizing eyes, teasing smile, before he was entirely wrapped up in him… just as Rolo is. And they are different—most notably in that _Rolo _knows what he wants. He smiles a bit at that. "Charming."

The professor leaves the doorway, edging further into the office. Rolo does not stand, but his eyes follow. "You know, Mr. Haliburton—I've never had a student so painfully interested in my love life."

"You've only taught one semester," Rolo reminds him.

A harsh laugh. "True. Though as I'm sure you know, I was in college for a very long time. And I'm almost certain no other Professor has had such… sordid advances from young men."

"And you wanted Suzaku?" erupts through his lips, much louder than it sounded in his head. "Why?"

The professor's eyes go a bit lax as he wheedles through his mind for _any _concrete reason; all that he can think of is _because he's Suzaku. _"I don't have to explain myself to you, Rolo." His voice is cold.

Rolo looks at him with a glare just as frigid; but he has to admire Lelouch's perseverance with him. Any other professor would most likely fire into an endless argument and try once again to drive him off; but Lelouch, Lelouch just stares at him with a cold debunk and lifeless violet eyes. "You really are something, Professor Lamperouge."

––—∞—––

And the time between that so venomous meeting and the dinner discussed during it dwindled so, so quickly.

Lelouch stands at his mirror, adjusting a navy blue tie and sporting a healthy grimace. He loathes Rolo to the point that he's gone past considering merely blowing him off, but now he's actually imagining himself fleeing campus with Suzaku in tow.

Sadly, the tiny moral compass he possesses decides that would be cruel, and he's thinking through many possible things that could happen this evening.

First, and perhaps most likely, Rolo would impress the same tireless attempts at seduction on him again, only to be disappointed.

Second, the evening would pass with drawling conversations about Literature or perhaps ethics, empty spaces in conversation colored in by glares and evil words.

Lastly, he could launch himself across the table and try his damndest to strangle the boy without being noticed.

Decisions, decisions.

C.C., from her spot lazing on his coverlet, comments, "A date… I knew you'd have to do something to satisfy this boy soon."

"I never thought I'd have to go to this length," Lelouch replies, his own eyes narrowing at the re-realization of that fact. "It won't be anything long, I promise you. In fact, text Suzaku and let him know I'll probably be back by nine-thirty at the latest." The muted clicking lets him know she complied. "Yes, it'll probably just be a bunch of small talk."

"You can only hope," she sniffs. "What if, in fact, he's another you? What if he, with all intents and purposes, does the same thing to you that you did to Suzaku? What then?"

"Let's say just for the sake of argument that you're correct— that I could possibly be as vulnerable as Suzaku in that respect — nothing would come of it beyond another very prompt rejection."

"You _are _more… strong willed than your little boyfriend," she muses. "Never mind then. Have fun with your stalker."

He wishes to disprove that statement, but he really wouldn't put it past Rolo. "Think of it as a business dinner, of sorts. A negotiation. He wants something from me, but I have to—"

"Compromise?"

"I was thinking… work my way around it." On the other hand, he could also blackmail Rolo with something new that he hasn't exactly discovered. He'll cross that bridge when he comes to it. "What're you going to do when I'm gone, anyway? I hear there's a special going on at Pizza Hut tonight."

"I know. It's only for personal pizzas."

"A shame." Finally satisfied with the placement of his tie (because even on hellish engagements like that which he's obligated to attend tonight, he's always got to be perfectly put-together), Lelouch steps over to the window. A definite wind-chill is in play. "Have you seen my fur coat anywhere?"

––—∞—––

Lelouch can see both himself and Rolo in the plate-glass window against the blackening sky; he himself looks bored at best, whilst Rolo manages to look simultaneously interested and laissez-faire about the entire ordeal. The server looks at them strangely and they both ask for water.

"You would think that he'd be used to seeing two men out together," sniffs the younger boy, unfolding his silverware with nauseating care. "The nerve of some people."

The professor looks him over; he's dressed formally, as they had both promised. "You look nice," he manages frostily, shifting a bit in his seat.

Rolo smiles demurely, "Thank you, Profes—Lelouch. You're a vision."

_Gag me. _"So I've been told," he mentions inconsequentially, out of habit more than anything as he toys with the red napkin in front of him. "So, what do you propose we talk about on this… business meeting?"

Of course, it could never be that easy with Rolo. "Whatever you'd like to." A cold chill passes over Lelouch at his stare—not because he's particularly _afraid _of Rolo but because he's merely surprising him more and more every minute. "Suzaku, even. We could talk about Suzaku."

An image of his brown-headed boyfriend flits through Lelouch's state of mind. "He's majoring in Literature," he says, somewhat offhandedly.

"Japanese literature?"

"Brittanian."

"Ahhhh. I hope he doesn't find it too difficult. The two languages are very different in many respects."

"I hate to repeat myself, Rolo, but Suzaku has lived in this country for ten years. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking about him as if he's some backwards transfer student."

He merely smiles in response. "So you love him back, do you?" The look he gets in response is priceless; it really floors Lelouch that someone can be brought up to be so—so _devoid _of social boundaries. "It's a simple question. You should have no problem answering it."

"I don't, but I'm refusing because it isn't your business."

"The cat has claws," Rolo murmurs, winking. "You're so easily excited, Professor. Calm down, would you…?"

Through his peripheral vision, Lelouch looks about the room. _There are too many witnesses. _"I am calm," he says, vocal chords straining against the three small words, "You just insist on being insufferable. It's natural for me to get a bit flusteredevery once in a while."

"Flustered, you say." A fraction of a laugh rumbles low in Rolo's throat. "It goes beyond that. I'd say you _hate _me." And oddly enough (though not quite surprisingly) that smile only intensifies. "Not that it can't be changed; you and Suzaku didn't like each other in the beginning, correct?"

Lelouch takes a sip of water. "I wouldn't say we disliked each other. He disliked me."

"Why?"

"Because I was… well, unfamiliar, I'd say. And—" he remembers Rolo's words from earlier that were overshadowed by the question following them—"_Hate _is a very strong word. But it is not what I feel for you. I dislike you."'

"And yours and Suzaku's relationship is proof that dislike can evolve into many different things, is it not?"

Lelouch's right eye twitches; or maybe he imagined that part. Be it not for the feeling that his feet are anchored to the floor (not only by obligation but also by morbid curiosity) he would most certainly have plucked his jacket from the chair behind him and fled the restaurant by now, without a second thought—but then, that _intrigue _is there, veiled thinly by his acidic replies to each and every question posed by the accursed boy that brought them both here in the first place.

He exhales. _In, out. Try not to… kill. _"The dynamics in my relationship with Suzaku and my relationship with you are grossly separate. For one thing, I do not find you even remotely attractive." In any other situation he would feel burdened and guilt ridden by the very idea of saying that cruel string of words to his date, but here it only serves as another weapon in his arsenal. "You're also irritatingly devoted and enamored with me to the point where I'd consider you obsessed."

"Obsession and determination are very easily confused, Professor." He notices Rolo has a dimple on his right cheek, a slight one that pops up whenever he smiles that empirical grin of success, "I'm determined to help you see the light, of course. That you are making some very stupid mistakes in the field of love."

"The _field of love? _I'd think someone as well-read as you could come up with a more interesting colloquialism than that."

"What can I say, Professor. You make thinking difficult for me."

"We're back to _Professor _now, I see."

"Of course. This is a business dinner, isn't it?"

Lelouch stares, feeling a bit unsteady. At least with Suzaku he'd had at least a tiny inkling of what to do or say next. "Anything otherwise would be wishful thinking on your part."

The server returns, speaking hastily to them and scribbling at his monogrammed notepad with a fountain pen; he leaves as quickly as he arrived.

"I didn't know you ate salmon," the boy remarks.

"I think you're forgetting that you know very few things about me."

"All in due time." Rolo grins.

Lelouch thumbs in his pocket for his phone, and his gaze hardens whenever he can't find it—and damn it, he'd been feeling like there was something he had to do… "The moment we get finished eating, you're going to ask for the check. We're going to make it Dutch treat since this entire thing is both my fault and yours."

"Fine," Rolo says breezily, his eyes on the ceiling. "Curious, isn't it?"

"What's that?"

"How the universe puts certain events in motion."

"Like?" Lelouch asks flatly.

"Like this. For example, if this wasn't meant to happen, then why would I have felt compelled to steal your briefcase?"

"Because you wanted to, Rolo. It wasn't divine intervention."

"And you are qualified to make that observation…?"

Lelouch will most certainly have frown lines soon if he doesn't rid himself of Rolo completely within the next few days. "You took my briefcase because you're obsessed with me."

"Not just that."

"Why else?"

"I wanted to see if there was concrete proof of you and Suzaku." Rolo crunches an ice cube. "But he proved that all on his own before I even _read _the letter. You both did. Why, I'd be surprised if the whole school didn't know by now. Then again, who really stays awake in class other than me…" he smiles, teasingly.

_Get bent, Rolo. _"I suppose you're right about that." He hadn't really been discreet, returning Suzaku's adoring gazes at least five times a lecture; however he'd never anticipated a student ever paying attention much less noticing _that. _"Are you ever ashamed of being so infatuated with someone so out of reach? Does it ever bother you, Rolo, that I chose Suzaku, and that I didn't drop everything for you the second you transferred in?"

"At first I'll admit it was frustrating. But I think I understand what you see in him. He's old enough for you not to feel like a pedophile, but young enough to turn a blind eye to your—emotional abuse, maybe? That's what it seemed like in his writing. The way he threw himself completely into you, not caring if it was unrequited, just as long as he could go back to the realization that someone like you would be with someone like him—"

_Splash._

Rolo's eyes flew open and he stares, gaping, at Lelouch as ice-cold water seeps down his front as well as his lap. "How _dare _you," he says roughly. "I thought you were more mature than that, Professor."

Holding the empty water glass in his hand, the professor's eyes narrow. "And I you."

"So you threw a drink on me? Because I insulted your precious Suzaku? What's the matter, handsome? Run out of comebacks?" he gets up and rights himself as much as possible, blotting at the soaked fabric of his shirt with a thick napkin. "I knew it'd happen eventually."

Lelouch's head is spinning. Why had he acted so childishly, so… _thoughtlessly? _"Not even close," he says distantly, his violet eyes sweeping over to the window; once Rolo is out of eyeshot, coherent thought is easier, and he can dissect the events that have transpired. First Rolo was talking about Suzaku, and how old he was, and then there was something about abuse, and then—

So that was what made his heart palpitate; rage, fueled by the implication that he's doing anything to Suzaku he didn't say he was okay with, didn't _implore _him upon.

(An implication made by Rolo, no less.)

He drinks the small amount of water he has left and focuses on his hands; keep folded in lap, sit flat on the table, place in pockets, do not bite fingernails. Eventually, though, he meets Rolo's gaze again. "I noticed in your letter," the boy says gently, "That you never said you loved him. Not once."

"It isn't any business of yours."

"Well." Rolo tilts his head, seeming civil now that he's been drenched in ice water, "I for one am a firm believer in equality in relationships, however unconventional I may seem. And… though you speak endlessly of your devotion of Suzaku, and clearly seem intent on protecting him, I haven't heard you utter those three words."

"What do any of them really matter?" Lelouch blinks; however, he cannot ignore that low pulsing in the middle of his chest that always surfaces whenever there are romantic conversations pertaining to Suzaku. "Words are forgotten. It is actions that carry the real weight in any relationship."

"Some may say that. But those people are the ones who have commitment issues, in my opinion."

Lelouch grinds his teeth. "Nobody asked you for your opinion."

Amusement flickers across Rolo's face but he does not push the subject further; surprisingly, he decides to query Lelouch on the time he spent at the University of Paris, and what sorts of people he met there. If they hosted any foreign exchange programs.

Somehow, it seems that the longer he talks to Rolo, the longer they sway from the subject of Suzaku, the less animosity taints the air and the more eagerness he feels to conversate with this young man, find out more about his less hostile side. Jealousy taints what could be a very interesting friendship, or so Lelouch thinks, and as he listens to the boy tell him about some of the people he's met (authors, professionals, even a diplomat or two) the professor Lamperouge figures it's a shame Rolo likes him so much. As odd as that may sound.

The time he allowed himself dwindles and dwindles; he drinks wine liberally, however only enough to render him, well, tipsy – as Lelouch will bow to the Emperor before he lets Rolo behind the wheel of his car – and thinks, distantly, that there is something he forgot. Something… an engagement? No, his phone would've buzzed and reminded him. He dismisses the notion, deciding it's just because he's been so busy lately and the days have started to run together.

Rolo eventually _ah-hem_s his throat and taps at an expensive looking watch fastened around his thin wrist. "Professor, it's nearly ten o'clock. We should be getting back to Nester now, Gino will start sticking his nose in our business after much longer."

"_Our business _would imply that you and I share something other than hostility," says Lelouch, draining his glass of dark wine and placing it on the table with a _clink. _After splitting the bill in half they leave the restaurant, the professor walking a bit stilted, his most enthusiastic student hastening to his side, ready at a moment's notice to catch him, should he be lucky enough for the older man to stumble.

––—∞—––

When he gets home, the air has progressed from merely cold to _blistering. _He pulls his scarf tighter around his neck and climbs the newly carpeted stairs at Nester.

"I think it went quite well," Rolo says, a sudden reminder of his presence. "You didn't attack me in the middle of the restaurant." He winked once, a wry smile crossing his mouth.

Lelouch looks back at him blankly, his violet eyes as unexpressive as they are when he is, perhaps, reading a book he isn't particularly interested in. "Would you doubt me if I told you there were a few instances where it was a definite possibility?"

"Not at all. People have told me I'm a lot to handle." That arrogance, less refined yet more assured than his own, shines bright through limpid mauve eyes, and they've reached their hallway. A few people are milling around, as they always do at this time, irking Lelouch further with their immature worries. "Anyway, as for your conditions… I'll have my notes to you tomorrow," Rolo says dryly, remembering the professor's rather sadistic request. He considers pretending he just _can't _pass without them, but if anyone knows he has them committed to memory, it's Lelouch.

"Excellent." Feeling all Rolo-related thoughts begin to drain from his psyche, the dark-haired man thinks yearningly of one entity—one single inhabitant of this planet who he's always so thrilled to drape himself across and sink into happiness—his memory foam mattress, waiting so invitingly in his room. "I'll see you then."

"Wait."

"Yes, what is it Rolo?"

The boy gives him another dark smile and he throws a jangling object—catching it concisely, Lelouch eyes his own car keys. Why did he still have those, again? "Good night, Professor."

He stands there for a moment, even after Rolo is gone, merely looking at his door. Never has he met a young man with the capability to fry his nerves and frazzle his self-control so quickly (excluding Suzaku, who has earned his nerve-frying and self-control-frazzling privileges). Moreover, Rolo singlehandedly matched—if not trumped him—in each any every battle of wits he initialized, leaving him shocked and disoriented across the table.

Lelouch shakes his head. He can be dealt with tomorrow, once he has a good night's sleep and some coffee in him.

However whenever he unlocks his door and flicks on the light—

The instinctual smile he makes cracks and falters when he sees the expression on his lover's face.

"Hi." He says, with detached resentment about him. "You're back."

"How did you get in here?" he asks. Suzaku looks very cute today, in a blue dress shirt and slacks, his hair actually _tamed _with wax or something of the –

Then he remembers, and feels the sudden onslaught of guilt and _ohfuckohfuckohfuck _mixing into one thick, unassailable mass somewhere beneath his sternum. Suddenly the buzz he had has evaporated – or maybe it was never there at all. In any case, his perception is crystal clear, as is Suzaku's disappointment.

"I have a key," the brunet reminds him. "I had to come in here to get my phone. So I could confirm our reservations," he says acerbically, hurt barely concealed behind the irate mask on that relentlessly staring face. Lelouch stands there, debating on dropping to his knees and begging the boy for forgiveness—but then it wouldn't quench Suzaku's thirst for closure, for some _explanation _pertaining to his lateness.

He clears his throat. Suzaku's gaze hardens. "I'm sorry, I didn't think he could keep me out nearly so late. I thought I'd be back by nine-thirty at the latest."

"So did I." The uncharacteristic malevolence that springs up in Suzaku's eyes sends shivers down his spine. "How was your date?" demands that voice, so sharp it could slice through the very _air _surrounding their oh-so-tense bodies.

"It wasn't a date," he reminds him softly. "It was to make sure you aren't expelled and I'm not fired."

He nearly spits the last word but the flames of anger quiver a bit when he looks again into those eyes, dim and dull with disappointment. Suzaku pushes a hand through his tediously styled hair—because it had come to his attention that Lelouch has always been a big fan of appearances, and well, why not? The worst it could do was boost his confidence. The wax sticks to the insides of his fingers, and he lets his hand drop to his knee, knowing he could use that confidence boost more than _ever _right now.

All he gets is that wordless violet stare.

"How was your… not a date?" he crosses his legs, looking expectantly at his boyfriend while switching on the lamp. He sees Lelouch unwrap his scarf and—while keeping eye contact—toss it with intentional gentility onto the desk.

The professor watches his lover's self-assured leer, eyes roving over his primly crossed arms and legs as he sits in that rather uncomfortable-looking plastic chair. He asks a question that he already knows the answer to. "Did you wait up for me, Suzaku?"

"I may have." The brunet cranes his head to look out the window. "Did you take your car?"

"Yes." Lelouch places his keys on Suzaku's desk, unaware of how the dark green eyes swivel to follow his steps. "It wasn't as bad as I'd expected it to be, you know."

"What did you think was going to happen?" says Suzaku's voice, a bit rough as he realized he was addressing both himself and the other. "Anyway… aren't you going to come say hello to me?" because since Lelouch left he's been dying, in his mind, to touch fragrant hair, brush against translucent skin—and perhaps more fervently, to assure himself that he's still wanted and that Rolo hasn't taken his place.

From a purely objective standpoint, Suzaku appears to be a calm, rational person, whose cold demeanor reflects that he does not care a thing about what happened tonight. Lelouch, however, is not at such a standpoint, and sees right through him. He resists the urge to repeat his entire speech regarding the reasons Suzaku champs Rolo, and crosses the room to lean in to his boyfriend's face.

He kisses at pursed lips, trying to be as apologetic as he can about it—in that he slips a hand around the nape of Suzaku's neck and closes his eyes. For a moment his lover steels himself, not responding (but his breathing his evidence enough of his desire to) but something, be it Lelouch's tongue slipping into his mouth or the fact that he can never stay mad at him for long, coaxes him into responding. Lelouch smiles into the kiss, his grip tightening in Suzaku's hair-

Then he is promptly yanked into the chair, hands slipping through his hair and gripping the back of his head until he's more or less in Suzaku's lap, or just above it, anyway. "Suzak—_" _He's palmed through the fabric of his dress pants. "Was this premeditated?" he smirks.

"It may have been," Suzaku says, just as cryptic as before but with less breath. He notices how behind the façade of arrogance Lelouch is hesitant, attempting to steel himself so as to not fall on his lap, and works his hand faster, rubbing. "I _did _wait up for you, by the way."

"I thought so." Lelouch's hips move of their own accord as he pushes into Suzaku's hand, quickly embarrassed at how needy he begins to look. As the zipper teeth come apart, Lelouch realizes Suzaku's hand is cold, but he forgets about that quickly. "Were you by any chance staring out the window?"

"For the last few minutes." That hand grows gentler, teasing against his half-hard length. "He didn't try and kiss you—so that can only mean good things." The younger boy spits into his palm, but when he looks up an expression wrought with mixed delirium and disbelief stops him.

"Suzaku," the older says between dry, caustic breaths, "Do you think I would've let him?" And he can hear his voice crack along with some tiny part of his heart; does Suzaku really have that little faith in him? His hips still and he just looks at the younger with unfocused eyes.

The green orbs thin when he smiles.

"I don't."

In addition, Suzaku promptly unzips himself, pulling Lelouch down to sit on his crotch and running his hands up and down thin hips reverently.

"You're too pretty for him, Lelouch," the softness, an aspect he's always come to associate with Suzaku, creeps into the voice that until now has been so unforgiving. "Beautiful." He ruts against Lelouch's welcoming ass, lingering between his thighs. "That isn't to say… I'm not worried but…" Lelouch lowers himself further, the head of Suzaku's cock poking at his entrance; the way it leaks against him only makes him clench encouragingly, but Suzaku, as always, seems keen on _talking. _"I know you'd never do that to me…"

He smiles good-naturedly, rubbing himself with fervor against Suzaku's flushed cock. "I've told you many times," his voice sounds heavy, slurred, when it finally comes up between his lips, "I don't even like him."

"Mm." Suzaku sits back in the chair, his head tipping back. He smiles, eyes hazy as his hips jerk faster, "You have no idea, how… much I…" his face grows passive with the promise of some sweet declaration—

Lelouch just groans, his stomach pulling taut. "Suzaku, if you don't fuck me _right _now—"

"I was getting to that part." The roughness is back in Suzaku's voice, and his hand flicks out to grasp at Lelouch's cock. Immediately the older gives him that look, the one he projects when he realizes he's done some serious underestimating. He jerks him off slowly as he speaks, honey dripping from his lips, "I was going to tell you that I loveyou… and because of that I get worried about you, so I waited up. Not because I'm jealous of Rolo, but because I just want you to be safe—"

"Safe—" the older's eyes clench shut, and his release splatters Suzaku's shirtfront. For a moment, his head slumps onto one quivering shoulder, hot breath spilling out over the fabric. Once he's taken in enough oxygen for a venomous voice, he complains, "If you would've shut up—"

Suzaku enters him then, his reddening face against Lelouch's sternum. He feels the blackette's chest constrict in surprise. "I love you, Lelouch," he repeats and he slams him down on his erection, hands gripping thin hips as his own legs grow tremulous, still trying to show Lelouch just how much he wants (loves) him through his eyes, looking so pointedly at him despite that fact his lover's own are closed. With the tiny amount of neurons not involved in this _act, _he bends himself back, leaning against the back of the chair again and taking the other with him.

"Nnf," is Lelouch's response. His head bobs along with his hips, and he's hard again—because nowhere in his memory can he remember Suzaku ever taking him with so much wonderful force, his usually so empathetic face scrunched up like that, beads of sweat staining his cobalt collar and darkening the chestnut hair on his neck. He cannot recall Suzaku being—so _unrestrained _in any way. "Suzaku—!" At this point closing his mouth just takes too much _thought _and every thought he has is snuffed out then pushed from his mouth in some indistinguishable quip. "_Nngh…"_

"Yessss," Suzaku hisses. "What_ is_ it?" even his lips seem to be lined in sweat as he questions Lelouch, for the tiniest moment slowing his hands to quiet the deafening soundtrack of their obscene movements—because even so careless like this he is still Suzaku, and Suzaku is very partial to some of the less _refined _things Lelouch spouts off when he has his dick in him.

Lelouch can feel his hair sticking to his forehead as those hands pull him up and down, forcing him to ride the shaft he's impaled on (no complaints here) and he can even feel the lustful manner in which Suzaku's looking at him; the forceful way he moves Lelouch makes the older unbelievably hot.

But before he can comply the brunet finds himself compelled by a pair of lips; they kiss for a long time, Lelouch's eyes closed tightly not only in reaction to the feeling pooling in his groin but due to the unbridled sense of _peace _and fulfillment that fills him as his mouth cossets against Suzaku's. He's wondering if perhaps earlier this evening he suffered a mini-stroke to have _possibly _forgotten anything about this boy—about his indolent happiness, heedless devotion, beautiful face—

"Harder," Lelouch repeats, cringing inwardly at how desperate he sounds (is).

The younger boy obliges, his hands tightening on Lelouch's hips as he rocks his own up in time; Lelouch's tongue juts out to lick at his lips, because the sea of breaths he's released keep drying them out—and, indistinctly, he feels Suzaku picking him up.

"Over the desk," the younger boy says. "Please," he adds, as a very-Suzaku like afterthought. So this is what Lelouch does, his jaw resting on one of the boy's homework assignments—and when Suzaku slams back into him the letters go out of kilter, before disappearing promptly as his eyes close.

The Japanese boy's first grunt is loud in his ear, perhaps because Suzaku's cheek is pressed against his, laughing in breathless anticipation when Lelouch asks him what he did while he was not here. He replies, words chopped by his thrusts, "I waited for you to come back."

"Mhrrm," Lelouch puts in intelligently, his arms steeling him on the edge of the desk, notwithstanding the fact Suzaku's already holding him firm. "Forming a work ethic, are we," his last word is extinguished into a breath as Suzaku sucks a bruise just under his left ear; the searing touch of that mouth sullies his awareness even further. Sweat, as well as the scent of the boy's hair wax, aromatic and overwhelming, only makes it worse; he shudders.

"I'm a patient person." With that, Suzaku slams into him harder than before, relishing in the way Lelouch slumps, his mouth falling open in a long whine while he drops unceremoniously to the floor (it reminds Suzaku of another time in which a chair was involved, and he smirks as he runs a hand over the slight curve of his older lover's spine). Lelouch seems to read his mind and gets on his knees, glancing sideways at the brunet over his shoulder.

Before continuing, Suzaku takes a moment to merely _stare _at Lelouch—taking in the way his collar is so crooked, half up and half down, the way his chest rises and falls so inconsistently—and the way he whines cutely as he pushes inside again.

This time it's different; Lelouch is groaning more roughly, noises more animalistic; he tries to silence them with a hand, his brow furrowed because he can't quite succeed. The scent of their intermingling musk and starts to drive Suzaku crazy—he throws his hips faster, gnashing his teeth,

(_please don't leave me)_

Their noises fall into a jagged rhythm, and vaguely he notices damp shirt slipping a bit to expose one of his shoulders, not bothering to right it because his breaths are growing hoarse, and Lelouch is arching up, squeezing around him so _fucking _hard—

Suzaku barely restrains the shout that escapes him, and then the universe is being pinched into one blinding, microscopic pinprick of sensation.

…before he falls with no grace on Lelouch's heaving form, swallowing wetly and greedily, trails of his orgasm pulling a sated smile onto his glistening face. He cannot see Lelouch's expression, but he can tell from his voice that it must be serene. "Suzaku," he says, sounding like a dying machine, "You're getting good at this."

A flicker of pride hits home somewhere inside him, but he cannot be bothered with it now; he cannot be bothered with anything, with his mind buzzing so pleasantly. "…th-thanks." His body feels disproportionately heavy and he wonders—"Am I hurting you?"

"No." Is the slightly more steady reply. "No, you're fine." In addition, Lelouch's neck swivels, so he sees that flushed face for a split second before their lips press together brusquely. The room feels a bit chillier when they separate; Suzaku fixes his shirt so it covers his shoulder once more.

Once their feverish breaths have finally ceased to monopolize the airspace, Suzaku lets himself formulate a sentence: "Are you alive?" because Lelouch's body has stilled almost completely.

"Yes," a sharp voice confirms. "Was there ever any doubt?" Lelouch wriggles out from under him, getting to his feet and pulling his pants from where they lie crumpled on the chair. "Did you sit there... the _entire _time?"

"You asked me what I was doing." Suzaku's eyes are still cool and unforgiving like before – Lelouch blinks softly, remembering a time (not quite so long ago at all) when Suzaku would bow, hesitatingly of course, to his will, blinded by his own desire and confusion. Now, he seems to have come into his own, if only an infinitesimal amount. The older wishes he could be so dynamic at times.

However, those thin lips are curved in a loose smile and Lelouch just stands there, his dark pants hanging in his hands as he apprises Suzaku, who sits Indian-style on the floor in his sweat-stained shirt, looking as if he's just run two marathons then sprinted to the palace to tell the emperor about it. His hair is fucked up six ways to the weekend and—well, to use an infantile phrase, he looks like crap.

All the same, Lelouch cannot recall seeing a more beautiful sight. He stands aimlessly there, expression blank. "Why did you leave your socks on?" he questions.

"What?" Suzaku gets up, looking at Lelouch with distracted green orbs. "Never thought to take them off." He wonders why Lelouch is looking at him like that—he's usually about ready to hit the hay by this point, griping listlessly about this or that while telling Suzaku to shut up should the younger try to contribute to the one-way conversation. "So, you never did tell me how the dinner was."

Their eyes meet, both amused; because it was all Suzaku's fault, anyway, that he didn't get to tell him about it earlier. "Well, we went to a small place. He basically just asked me about you for the vast part of the evening… transparent as always." Though he does remember feeling agonizingly surprised at how easily Rolo matched his wit, debunked his painstaking mind games with as little effort as someone swatting and killing a fly, and however gently he shudders, the sound is not missed by ever-perceptive Suzaku, whose brows jerk up.

"He tried something, didn't he," his voice grows gravelly with possession, taking on the affronting persona of a Kururugi Suzaku eight or nine years younger, with both parents alive and an ego that could rival that of the professor Lamperouge, who looks at him through an easily sawn-through mask of nonchalance.

"No. It's just not an ordeal I want to go through again," he explains, taking Suzaku's moist hand and pulling him over to his bed. He remembers, shortly, that he needs to wash his sheets before inhaling the distinctive scent of fabric softener. _Must've been Sayoko. _They fall into bed together, Suzaku facing him, his eyes half-mast.

"Though I am flattered that you waited up for me," Lelouch says, rasplike into his ear, breathing in Suzaku, metal and pine and something else, - aha! That scent, reminiscent of Spanish cologne which he sampled in Paris some years before, marred with post-coital tang and perhaps something he's imagining. A reverie (in which Lelouch implores his heart to be still, or Suzaku will hear it and make fun of him) sinks over them both for about a half a minute. That is, until.

"…flattered isn't exactly how I'd put it," crawls Suzaku's voice, with the rattle of sleep in it.

"Fine. I am _honored_ that you waited up for me," he says in a very princely voice, sweeping his hand through the air with a flourish (for no one, really, as Suzaku's eyes are closed), "However angry you were. Though it doesn't exactly support your 'I'm not jealous' crusade."

Suzaku grumbles incomprehensibly and buries his face in the pillow.

––—∞—––

Earlier today, Suzaku was kidnapped.

It was very tastefully done of course, Gino wrenching open the door of his tiny living quarters and yanking him out by the arm, half-dressed, informing him very quickly that he was going to help with his 'Biochemistry issues'.

However he's done it all himself, with only menial help from the junior boy, who after all is doing such a lovely job of being _annoying—_"And then we can go and get ice cream~"

"Gino. Please shut up."

The brunet scratches languidly at his own scalp as Gino's tirade comes to a screeching halt, a pair of blue eyes looking expectantly at him. "Sorry," he says, a bit heavily, "I just—trying to do my homework." His grip tightens on the mechanical pencil and he continues drawing the electron diagrams Gino offered to help him with—but so far all the junior has done is rattle off plans for the 'over nighter' they're going to have soon. More or less, his docket for the evening is a long string of annoying movies and a trivia game, "Because I get the feeling you're really good at trivia!"

Suzaku has wondered an indeterminate number of times if there's a gun hidden anywhere on campus.

He stretches his legs out underneath Gino's desk, scribbling a bit faster as the blond's attention has been taken away by his complicated-looking phone. Almost…done…

_Finished._

"What were you talking about?"

Gino looks up. "That was all I really wanted to say," he said, chipper as always as he slings an arm over Suzaku's stiff shoulder. "What's Lelouch been up to? Hey, I think I saw him with Rolo the other day."

"I _know _that." Suzaku's voice is cross. "Rolo blackmailed him into a date." It was much easier than he thought it would be for him to make the switch from hiding things from Gino to divanching even the tiniest details with him; but that's perhaps because no matter how annoying his towheaded RA is, Suzaku has found something of a kindred spirit in him. "It wasn't anything serious," he adds as an afterthought.

The taller gets up from his chair and looks out the window, where the gray clouds roll drearily on the horizon. There will be a storm soon. "I sure hope not. Rolo seems… kind of ruthless to me."

"How?"

"Well, let's put it this way." Gino perches on the windowsill. "Would _you _ever give up on being with Lelouch?"

"…no?" Suzaku blinks, unsure of where this is going.

"Maybe Rolo won't either!" the blond sounds much, much too happy about this, a naïve smile lighting up his face. "You've got a little bit of competition, don't you!"

Yet again the brunet dips into the rather large amount of scenarios that he'd considered the other night, while sitting much too rigidly in that chair. "I really don't," he says, remembering the way Lelouch had looked at him (_"Suzaku, do you think I would've let him?") _and feeling his heart relent, just the tiniest bit. "Lelouch says he's annoying."

"He is," Gino says. "You don't have to go out with him to know that."

Suzaku allows himself to laugh. "I know." Nevertheless, that still doesn't stop the mental reel of Rolo and Lelouch; _his _Lelouch, laughing at some witty thing his fellow writer said, or the two of them walking together—their height difference greater and more appealing than his and Lelouch's. He imagines Lelouch's face getting hot at Rolo's taunts just the way it did as his own, that night at the Quarter that seems like so long ago now, though in reality the greater half of four months has passed.

This realization is followed by the one that no matter what Lelouch says, no matter what he can convince _himself, _he and his boyfriend are close to exact opposites while his classmate is just about tailor-made for him.

His chest hurts.

"I have to go," he says.

Gino's blue eyes flicker with sadness.

Part of him—a small part—feels guilty for snubbing his new friend, but a much larger part is possessed by the need to seek the advice of an old one.

––—∞—––

Conveniently, Rivalz is home now; he pulls open the door with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, russet eyes large. "Suzaku?"

"I have to talk to you." The brunet peers at him looking like he's just run a long way, his gaze frantic. "Need advice." A moment passes; Suzaku realizes Rivalz is standing before him in a T-shirt and boxer shorts. "Is this… a bad time?"

It is; but Rivalz's worst trait (according to him, anyway) is that he's always been a bit of a softie. "Nah. Come in."

Suzaku sits on the sofa, off which hang frayed blankets and sheets. He raises his eyebrows at that. "Overnight guest?"

The bluenette shakes his head. "What'd you want to talk to me about?"

"I." Suzaku stares at his hands long enough to count each individual pore.

"The ninth letter of the alphabet. Has lots of different meanings."

"No, it has to do with Rolo. And Lelouch. They went out to dinner the other night. Because, you know, blackmail and everything. And he _forgot _about me, about the plans we had. How does that happen?"

Rivalz looks at him from across the room, sitting at the table to type away at his laptop. "I'd probably forget half the shit going on in my life if I had to hang around Rolo, too. I'd be too worried about getting raped."

"Please be serious." Suzaku sighs.

"Okay, fine. We're friends, and all, so you want my honest opinion. _I _think you're freaking out over this a little too much. 'Jealousy's not attractive'," His voice flew up a few octaves to mock Milly's. "Besides, what'd you think was gonna happen? That he was going to dump you for _Rolo. _Get real."

"I know it sounds crazy." He messes with an old-fashioned Rubik's cube on the coffee table; he never did have the patience to finish one. "Did you ever think Milly was cheating on you when she hung around with guys?"

"Every guy worries," Rivalz says dryly, shooting him an empty smile. "Lelouch isn't the cheating type. At least I don't think he is. I mean, sure, he's got a little bit of a player complex and everything but from what you've told me the guy really cares about you, Suzaku."

The Japanese teen stares at his hands, trying again to navigate through the labyrinth of thoughts that have bled into each other so quickly while simultaneously attempting to consider his best friend's words. He remembers the sincerity in Lelouch's eyes when they discussed it that night (and several others), the way the older so heedlessly opened his emotional shell for a few choice moments. It brings comfort, reassurance to him, however, there is an underlying factor he has previously failed to mention: "I guess it's just that… I don't want him to do to me what I did to Euphy."

Rivalz's eyes close. "Aw, come on, it's totally different. You left Euphy 'cause you love Lelouch, right? Well he doesn't love Rolo, does he? I don't think anyone does to be totally truthful."

He's always liked how blunt Rivalz can be, but sometimes a lengthy emotional guarantee is what he's looking for, an amenity usually only gained when confiding personal issues in girls (something he hasn't done since breaking up with the aforementioned ex-girlfriend). "Thanks for talking to me about this."

"Sure. What the hell else have I got to do, anyway, except finish this paper?" He looks with loathing at the Microsoft Word document in front of him. "Hey, do you know anything about paradoxes? Irony? Lelouch wants 4,000 words on their importance in everyday life."

"Just write about everything that's happened this year. It's all been ironic enough." Suzaku crosses his legs, looking at the storm clouds rumbling on the horizon. Amherst has a much nicer view than Nester. "What's going on with Milly?"

The previously consistent sound of typing slows to a stop. "No idea." Rivalz speaks in the tone he normally uses when denied junk food or directly after failing a test. "She says all this cryptic stuff to me, you know? I can't figure any of it out."

"I know what you mean."

They fall silent; Rivalz figures out a new point to illustrate in his assignment, and it sends him into a ramble he'll definitely get good marks for. Suzaku looks at the rapidly spinning ceiling fan, his eyes nebulous as he tries to understand the meaning behind some of the words spoken by one very inscrutable exiled Eleventh Crown Prince.

––—∞—––

Lelouch treads carefully that morning.

Literally.

Because, however much he would absolutely _hate _to admit it, he's in pain from last night, from Suzaku's uncharacteristic force during their lovemaking (if it could really be called that given the nature of things).

After this morning, Lelouch has taken it upon himself to avoid large metropolitan areas, as people have given him looks once or twice, as it seems to them that he's walking with a limp, or something.

The only possible benefit to this situation would perhaps be having probable cause for a handicap parking space.

He gets into his car, (donning a pair of sunglasses as it's annoyingly _bright _today) before speeding off down University Dr., his mind full of in equal parts Suzaku and Rolo as he sips his covered cup of coffee. Today, he is to work with Dean Carlan on admissions meetings, as there are a good many students looking to transfer into Pendragon in January, just in time for the new semester. The Dean assured him that they could make quick work of it; the students, he says, are mostly well rounded, and very little deliberation will be needed. Good. He isn't in the mood for deliberation.

Except when it concerns his personal life, of course.

His turn signal flicks; simultaneously, his cell phone buzzes in his pocket. At the next red light, he reads the message. **Sorry about last night. **

He asks Suzaku what he means, only to receive the immediate reply: **I was being immature. I shouldn't have gotten mad. Or… you know. Does it hurt much?**

**More than you know **is the first thing he types; thankfully, he has a backspace key. **I'm fine. See you at five.**

Goddamn him; the second Lelouch had escaped from thoughts of the previous evening Suzaku had unknowingly thrown him right back under the bus. By being _worried _about him. Oh, the irony. But—it had been Suzaku's fault after all, hadn't it?

Lelouch still can't even hope to fathom why Suzaku would even stoop so low as to compare himself to Rolo, anyway. Rolo's brash and thoughtless, whilst Suzaku—Suzaku is—

He's thought this over many, many times. There would be no point into delving into it _yet again._

The Admissions building is very, very crowded today; he removes his sunglasses and edges through the crowds of students chattering nervously amongst themselves as they await their meetings. In the elevator, the professor sighs and cracks his knuckles, one by one, before he reaches 6F, where the Dean resides.

The brown-haired man smiles when he sees him; there's a chair next to his. Lelouch sits and faces the girl in front of them, looking over her files on the desk. "You're transferring from Hartford?"

He drawls through endless conversation with her, posing perfunctory things like _what do you think of shared housing? _Moreover, _would you be interested in picking up an AP English class? _While the Dean checks things off on a clipboard. She's nervous, it's clear; whenever he meets her eyes, she seems as if she's about to jump out of her skin. _Don't be nervous, everyone gets nervous, _he assures her rather flatly, but it does not seem to help. The Dean is more of a people person and helps to calm her a bit more, cracking some easy jokes about the commute and some of the people she's met.

Eventually, Alice Sinclair's meeting is over (Lelouch's mental approximation is an hour, but in reality only about fifteen minutes have passed) and she hurries from the room, almost forgetting her purse in her haste. The Dean runs out to the elevator to deliver it to her. Lelouch rolls his eyes.

"I think she has promise," the older says, panting and adjusting his tie when he returns. "A little forgetful, but…"

"Good test scores," Lelouch fills in drolly, barely looking at the paper. "How many have you decided to accept today?"

"There hasn't been a single one I haven't seriously considered," Carlan chirps. "It's a wonder we even let some of our current ones in! Where have all these students been hiding…?"

They sit for a moment; the professor drinks his rapidly cooling coffee, frowning at the bitter taste. He flicks the red button on the desk and in the lobby; a breezy computerized voice will sound: _Now serving number seventeen…_

"I wonder," Carlan messes with a pen he's clearly disassembled many times, "How's that protégé of yours? Suzaku Kururugi?"

"Fine," Lelouch replies stiffly. "He's started to understand things more easily."

The elevator door _whooshes _open in the lobby; he hears heels. "Another girl."

"Or a transvestite," Lelouch portends.

It is a girl; a girl with nearly waist-length pink hair, azure eyes, and a skirt suit, her posture rigid. He recognizes her but for some reason his stagnant brain takes a long while to line the pieces up.

And he's completely sure that if he was drinking his coffee, he would've spit it all over the table.

"Hello, Miss Vandrein," says the Dean effervescently, shooting forward to shake both her hands. She says hello back, in her sanguine voice, and then her eyes fall on Lelouch; they snap away immediately, and it's clear she's recognized him as well. "Have a seat."

Euphemia edges in, sitting up as straight as physically possible in the black leather chair.

Carlan makes a beeline for the man to his right instead, his comforting voice only serving to irritate him. "This is Professor Lelouch Lamperouge. He's the head of our Arts and Sciences Department. All freshmen are required to take his Literature class."

"It's lovely to meet you," the black-haired male greets with practiced cordiality; however, he's currently the victim of acute cerebral failure, since the image of the girl in front of him refuses to sink in. He leafs through the pile to his left until he finds her file. "Transferred from Cromwell… graduated from Pendragon High School, class of 2009." _The same as Suzaku—_but of course, this is her, Euphemia, the girl Suzaku dropped for him some months ago, now sitting in front of him making a direct attempt to transfer into the school where they both reside.

Something stirs in his stomach, and it isn't pleasant.

She nods pensively, her pale eyes trained on Lelouch. "I decided I'd pursue a real education."

"A very formidable choice. Not to impugn Cromwell, of course," Carlan says quickly, eyes roving over a paper in front of him. "You'd like to major in… Literature!" he shoots a smile Lelouch's way. "You'll be in with Professor Lamperouge for quite a while, then!"

Euphemia smiles uneasily; it doesn't go unnoticed. Lelouch squints. "I have a request for off-campus housing," she hedges, reaching into her black bag to retrieve a folded piece of paper. "This is a lease on an apartment in North Pendragon starting next week."

The Dean looks it over; Lelouch appraises it over his shoulder. Indeed, Euphemia has lined up residence in a very nice neighborhood (by college town standards, anyway). "Will you be splitting rent with anyone?" he asks her.

She shakes her head. "No, I think I can handle it. I'm employed." Very prim, very self-serving. The exact type of student Pendragon University tries so hard to cultivate, and more than often fails to. There will be no debate on this one, Lelouch knows.

"Would you be interested in picking up an AP English class?" the Dean inquires. Lelouch reclines in his chair, looking over her file with a bit more scrutiny than he normally would. Sure, it's usually the responsibility of the Dean and his advisors to pick tirelessly through records and transcripts to their heart's content, but of course, he's somewhat inclined to be further interested in this particular applicant…

"Yes," she says, "I'm interested."

Euphemia looks at the two men in front of her, her heart beating inconsistently against her ribcage. To her the Dean himself is far less imposing than Professor Lamperouge, a man who she's only seeing for the second time despite having spent so many nights thinking about him and Suzaku.

He's closer now than he was at the Festival, but no less beautiful; he's in a dark suit and black-violet tie, his eyes tinged dark underneath, the trademark of overworked educators and insomniacs the world over. There's something hurting him, bothering at the very least, and Euphemia's sure she must be contributing to it a good bit. This realization makes her shift uncomfortably in her seat, rearranging her hands to place them over her lap. The only logical conclusion for her arrival at this University would be an attempt at winning Suzaku back – and it's plain as she watches Professor Lamperouge's lips tract up and down so sourly, that he is sold on this idea as well.

It would be pointless to try to convince him otherwise. Not that she plans on it, anyway, as that would be a gross misstep-of-bounds – it was a big step for her to even consider transferring to Pendragon, Suzaku notwithstanding, but almost entirely because of Lelouch, that she would have to face this striking and swift-witted man who, evidently, trumps her in every way possible, and try to keep a straight face in his class. But luckily for Euphemia, she is motivated by an event – more specifically, a person, and in the walk up to this building, she made a rather girlish promise to herself – that she would honor this person, and allow them to live, if only vicariously, through her.

You see, Euphemia's mother, Mrs. Vandrein, a mid-forties contemporary with love for classical and modern literature, had implored (or perhaps _begged _would be a better word) her daughter to submit an application, having left University herself due to less than laudable health, thrilling at the idea of her only child excelling within the field she never honestly got to apply herself to. Therefore, Euphemia, gentle-hearted Euphemia, had been swayed.

In the months since she and Suzaku broke up, she thought of the brunet constantly, his face haunting her every action; however even though the reader may find it impossible, Lelouch was on her mind just as much. He was a looming, obtuse figure, a symbol of everything that had gone wrong. In her mind, she'd continued to see him much less charming than this, more of a manipulative incubus-like figure who snared her Suzaku without a second thought – a predator, really, and Suzaku the prey.

However, as Euphemia sits in this room, before him, she finds that Lelouch is really quite passive, in her presence anyway. He sits leaned back, regarding her over his glasses, his face delicately concentrated and distinctly feline. _This is Suzaku's boyfriend, _she thinks, _this is who Suzaku loves so much. _However, a few months earlier, before closure had came upon her, Euphemia would have been unhinged by such thoughts – now she's just _curious, _transfixed by his limpid violet eyes and the pronounced languor with which his thin, elegant fingers move, toying with a university-monogrammed pen between them.

Dean Carlan grins, "I think we have a straight shooter, here, Lelouch!"

"Indeed," Professor Lamperouge says almost lazily; and now he's busy on his cell phone. She wonders if it's Suzaku on the receiving end of whatever message he sends. "If there are any questions…?"

"No, Professor." She smiles at him and his stomach curls, as he's truly looking at her for the first time. Light skin, opalescent blue eyes, and a bleeding-heart, selfless sort of _définition__de la qualité, _genuine compassion and grace thrust upon anyone looking at her. Her complexion is startlingly lovely as well, hidden behind a layer of unwarranted makeup and a nervous lip-chewing expression, and Lelouch's brow relaxes a bit, even as he swivels his head to the side so subtly to look her over more.

However, it is almost impossible to stare at someone for extended periods without their eventual notice; blue eyes flicker up, lest the professor is glaring at her – but he's merely watching, and then smiling, a virile twitch of lip that knocks her off track, just the slightest bit. _Euphemia, _he thinks, watching transfixed as smarting pink colors her face, _you're cleverer than you look, I gather. _"If there are no questions, then you may leave. Thank you for your time."

"No, thank you. Professor. Dean Carlan." Euphemia smiles, a small curling one Lelouch would associate with a little girl whose father bought her a new hair ribbon. She turns around, her heart in her throat.

"Thank you, Euphemia!" the Dean calls after her, his gratitude toward the young students for ruining a perfectly good workday never faltering.

"Have a good one!" is her fading reply.

Lelouch hates her for being such a kind soul. "Why do you think she'd choose to leave art school?" he asks unobtrusively as the Dean re-analyzes the girl's papers.

"The reason here says 'desire to pursue other career options'," the Dean prattles, not looking up. "Her SAT scores are nearly perfect too. 'Strong interest in creative writing and stylistic skills'… hmf. This'll be a difficult one for you to refuse, Lelouch!"

"We'll see," says the younger man inconsequentially.

He flicks the button and calls up the next snot-nosed kid he'll be wasting a half an hour of his life on.

––—∞—––

Later on that day, Lelouch's thoughts fling themselves at him with more enthusiasm than before, making his current task (shaving) more difficult than normal. He's quite sure he'll nick himself soon if the current train of thought continues at the speed it is now.

Suzaku's chattering in the background makes it all the worse. "And I really don't think I did that well on my exam today since everybody around me kept talking about the new transfers…"

Lelouch's dark eyebrows contort. He slathers shaving cream across his jaw and continues ridding himself of annoying stubble. "Mm-hm. Was it difficult?"

"Not really." The boy pushes his tennis shoes off. "A lot of chemical formulas. They really aren't so bad." He seems more content to watch Lelouch, whose personal hygiene regimens are much more entertaining than they probably should be. There's a strange elegance in the way the older cranes his neck to reach certain places with his razor. Perhaps Suzaku just has an eye for detail. "How did the interviews go?"

And that was a question he'd been hoping to avoid. "Fine," his voice is exasperated, "Just fine." The brunet strides up to the mirror; for a moment, Lelouch is distracted, holding the razor awkwardly. "Why do you ask?"

"Did you see Euphy? She said she was transferring in. It's weird."

"Weird, indeed. The Dean is accepting her." He resists the urge to roll his eyes, having convinced himself that Suzaku and that damned ex-girlfriend of his weren't still the _best of friends, _at least for a few hours.

And the stutter-shook surprise that lights up Suzaku's face hits the professor square in the solar plexus. "Really? That fast?" the gentle dimples on Suzaku's face pop out, as they always do when he's excited to the point of being a bother. Of course, this entire _situation _is a bother, so Lelouch just smiles noncommittally.

"Hand me a towel, would you?"

Suzaku does; he watches Lelouch wipe his face and neck. (Were _Violetta _a musical, one would see the look on that auburn face and expect the orphaned student to burst into song. But it is not a musical, and this scene that would be alleviated by a jaunty tune remains awkward, painfully silent as real life tends to be.) "Do you think it'll make things awkward? For you I mean."

Lelouch resents Suzaku for being so insightful and himself for being so easily read. "Why on earth would it?"

"Don't know." The younger shrugs, letting out a breath. He rounds Lelouch, keeping his eyes trained on him. "Are you losing weight?"

Lelouch frowns. "No?" and turns his head, following Suzaku's form. The Japanese youth is walking rather loosely, taking long steps and moving around him in an easy way. "Trying to seduce me, Suzaku?"

Suzaku puts his hands in his pockets, adopting the boyishly handsome persona of a whistling railroad worker. "Not exactly." A mirthful gleam lights his eyes and at that the older half-smiles, half-frowns. "Say, Lelouch… how long has it been?"

"Since?" Lelouch throws the towel in his laundry hamper, leaving to approach the hallway with a mind to make himself and Suzaku something to eat. Usually, his lover's temperament grows more relaxed after he's stuffed his chatty little face.

"Well." A look of mock-contemplation crosses Suzaku's visage. "Since I've… _been _with you."

"September—ah, that. Well, last… last night." When Suzaku thought he didn't notice the jealousy burning so brightly behind those green eyes, made tangible in the desperate way he fucked him, sweat dripping from both of them… Lelouch shakes his head. "Are you hungry?"

Suzaku nods and takes a seat at the table, blinking away the cool winter sunlight that permeates the foggy window. Lelouch's mind whirs through the events of the previous evening yet again, and as he stands in the pantry he momentarily forgets what he was doing. Right, food. Food for Suzaku and himself (though he probably won't eat it as he's a bit anxious today).

He fills a skillet full of hot water and places it on the stove to simmer, before cracking in half a huge pile of pasta. Damn, he really should go grocery shopping—and it's only when he starts to cook that he notices it since Nunnally never complains.

Suzaku says, "Sorry again. For hurting you like that."

Lelouch stares into the bubbling pot. "You're fine," he replies stiffly. "It's not like I've never—" he cuts himself off, to save both himself and Suzaku from a rather detailed foray into lovers past, "I've done it that hard before." Though _before _was upwards of three years ago, and to be perfectly honest, he's still a bit sore from yesterday. However Suzaku, an incubus of all things guilt and self-blame, doesn't need that barrage of complaint right now. "Oregano?"

"Pepper," the brunet requests. "I just feel like… I was being stupid. It was me being jealous, it was childish and I…" Suzaku sighs, burying his face in his hand. "You must think I'm stupid."

"I think you're human," Lelouch negates, stirring. "I probably would've reacted the same way if it…" _had been Euphemia who'd forced you on a date with her—_"Had been you Rolo victimized."

Laughter, soft and lilting. "Was it really that bad?"

"It was worse." He shakes his head. "All we did was argue, in all honesty. I don't know how I forgot we had plans, I suppose I was too irritated to keep track."

"I already forgave you." He did. Of course he did. Lelouch frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Too much water," the older fabricates, directing his troubled look at the food in front of him. "The pasta's going to be mushy." However, the slot Suzaku would normally use to put in some sort of remark plays a reluctant host to silence; Lelouch focuses on the wall, and there's a stain there.

Wonderful.

Somewhere in the din, his brain recognizes Suzaku's voice. "Is there a way I can make it up to you, Lelouch? The way I acted last night—and the other day too?"

"You don't have to make it up to me," he says with more irritation than was really called for, but then Suzaku just doesn't see the stain. He turns away from it and meets a pair of expectant green eyes. "Okay, fine. You can make it up to me by forgetting about it, like I'm trying to."

A single nod. Suzaku's eyes jut to the window. "They say it's going to storm tonight."

"Mmf." He follows the younger's gaze and indeed, dark clouds sit on the horizon like newly formed bruises. "I suppose we'll just have to postpone our picnic, then," Lelouch murmurs with a hint of satisfaction (because earlier Suzaku had badgered him to go all the way out to the park so they could eat _outside _of all places. That couldn't even be sanitary, let alone enjoyable). "Until it lets up."

Lelouch has always noticed the way Suzaku's neck tightens whenever he's displeased. "If it lets up at all."

"Don't be so pessimistic. It's a turn off."

"Because _you _clearly have the sun shining out your ass."

"Sassy, aren't we."

The brunet watches his dark-haired boyfriend cook whatever is in that pot, his lips moistened as his tongue flicks out to wet them. Lelouch and his goddamn pride sometimes—even now he sees triumphant lights in his eyes. He thinks maybe all royals are like this, but at the same time, he doubts he'd fall in love with any of the rest of them. In a roundabout way, his prince's blasted arrogance and snippy little remarks are more endearing than all the kind Euphy-compliments in the world.

Suzaku looks around, out the window, as he thinks about how strange things have gotten over the past few months—but in a good way. Of course, he replays the events in his head all the time but even in that it all still seems a little unbelievable, a little maybe-it's-a-dream and he'll wake up soon.

Because in the real world, someone like Lelouch would never want to be with him.

He exhales and looks to the older for some sort of reassuring look or statement – but all he gets is the image of Lelouch slumped, half-standing and half not, his head buried in his folded arms on the counter; fast asleep.

"Lelouch."

Nothing.

"Lelouch!"

The man in question wakes, looking disoriented then remembering the pasta to his right. "I dozed off," he explains, as if it's news to Suzaku. "So much work to do, really."

Suzaku frowns; aren't smart people supposed to know what their limits are?

"Do you want to go to sleep?"

Tired eyes glance at him for what seems like a thousand years before Lelouch's arm slowly creeps forward to flick off the burner, "Yes. I'd like that very much."

––—∞—––

Today is semester exams, and Lelouch is stressed out.

Of course, it's normal for him to be, with scores of new students and records to wheedle through; but something makes it worse, just enough to tip his blood pressure over the line.

It's Euphemia. Next to 's telling him something, something he's interested in because Suzaku just can't hide that dumb grin when he finds something interesting. Then he laughs.

Lelouch looks at his laptop. A letter from one of his former colleagues at the University of Paris, telling him of some of the conditions that have improved there. Apparently, Dean Etienne resigned from her post, too overwhelmed by the workload, and a much kinder man had taken her place; evidently most of the professors are actually present to teach class now, rather than just calling in sick like they used to.

He presses the 'reply' button, and it takes forever to load. Of course. Euphemia laughs at something, and she's talking to Rivalz now; the blue-haired boy's drawn an amusing picture, or something. Lelouch looks back to the screen, and now the typing field is before him.

_Daniel, _he types the man's name, his attention on the scene going on a few yards away._ I am glad I've found you in such good health. It's refreshing to -_

"Professor." It's Rolo."Are you going to do the lecture on Harvin today? I was really looking forward to it."

_Of course you were._"I have to send some emails first," he mutters, giving the boy a pointed look, which he mirrors with a bit more force before returning to the gaggle of students, who have seemed to calm down a bit, at least in the third row on which Lelouch has been so painfully fixated. His brow furrows and he continues his reply to Daniel, it turning out rather cold and impersonal, as he can't find it in his heart to focus on it_;_in the end, he just saves it to Drafts.

"Okay." He moves in front of their rows, taking a deep breath. "I'm sure none of you have heard of Arthur Harvin - but someone should tell you, He was born here in Pendragon sometime in the late eighteen-fifties, and worked many narrative papers - of course; this was before the collapse of the Writers' Union. Harvin was a fine user of all forms of poetic symbolism as well as paradoxes..."

Therefore, he goes on, telling the uninterested faces about a man whose intelligence was greater than all of theirs combined. Suzaku smiles brightly at him and he returns it with less fervor, looking at Euphemia in his peripheral vision. She looks very nice in that shade of blue. He hopes Suzaku doesn't notice this particular factoid.

However, he's too focused on him, of course. Lelouch is very well put-together as per usual, his black suit pressed and ironed with care. It really looks nice against his skin and - oh, that smile. Suzaku tilts his head, pleased, and actually takes in some of the things Lelouch says about this Harvin guy, because if it's Lelouch who says it, he'll commit anything to memory.

It is strange, though, having Euphy here. She must serve as an involuntary witness to his optical adoration for Lelouch, and surely many other signs he isn't even aware of, but oddly (and predictably) enough she still smiles at him and talks as if the man he left her for isn't here. Adapting has always been one of her strong points. But she's also had the tendency to grin and bear it.

Rivalz yawns. He's supposed to get the band together at seven, but going on zero sleep, it isn't going to be easy.

(But let's not focus on Rivalz. He'll be more important later.)

An hour passes and a few of the more dedicated students taking notes struggle to keep up with Lelouch - he's never really been that partial to posting notes on the board, having done it at the beginning of the year to humor them. However, Rolo is a speedy writer; talent forged through many years of obsessing with his teachers, and doesn't miss a word.

At the end of this particular lecture, Lelouch strides across the room and opens the window, lingering at it for a moment and letting the cool air cascade across his face. Chatter has sprung up again behind him and it would be quite pointless to try to quiet them once more. He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket.

Around thirty seconds later Suzaku feels his own buzz._** Meet you at the statue after class ends.**_

Confused, he replies,_** which one?**_

_**The one of His Majesty.**_ Oddly enough, there is only one figure of Charles zi Britannia on the property; god knows they're all over the city, reminding the citizens who they answer to. He's considered vandalizing them more than once.

He meets Suzaku's questioning gaze. The statue of the Emperor is on the other side of campus; surely Lelouch isn't running away from something? The boy frowns and the older shrugs back at him; it's whatever, he seems to say.

Rivalz starts bothering Suzaku again, "Hey, buddy, you really should bunker down and study with me tonight. I'm worried for us." Of course, he's talking about Gottwald's class, in which he's sure they're both merely decimal points away from failure.

"I'll see if I'm not doing anything," the brunet replies inconclusively, watching Euphy jot things down. "How do you remember anything from the lecture?" he hears Rivalz ask her.

"Oh, it's easy." An effervescent smile later she's shutting her memo pad and facing them again. "Where does your band play, Rivalz?"

"At the theater, when I can rent a room out." So far he's only been able to twice this month. "Since the play is going on and everything." This brings his thoughts to Shirley, and he frowns when he realizes her spot is vacant._ That's_ why it's been so quiet here, then. "Do you think you're going to try out?"

Everyone knew Euphemia was an accomplished actor (on her level, anyway), having been selected immediately for the lead of every school play she's signed her name to. In their Freshman year of high school, he remembers her performance of Juliet, her opposite being Jeremy Fisher, the football player who'd been obsessed with Suzaku. Luckily he'd gone to Bronwyn University on a scholarship.

"I will if Suzaku will!" she declares, looking at him with a twinkle in her bluish eyes.

He shakes his head, smiling uneasily. "No, I - you know I'm not cut out for that stuff," he says.

She's always thought that Suzaku puts a lot of emphasis on not having strong opinions, or risky goals. It was one thing she always tried to foster in him. "You never know until you try."

"Trust me." He looks at Lelouch, who's staring out the window, his back to them, "I've got too much on my mind."

––—∞—––

It's snowing whenever Suzaku reaches the statue; he tightens his green knit scarf, a shiver rippling through him. Other students mill about, some of them hurrying to another class or just socializing. He's always managed to look awkward while walking alone, probably because he stares at his feet. That way he's never had to think about the distance.

He runs into Kallen Stadtfeld (literally), and splutters an apology, since he's on the receiving end of an angry glare. However, he doesn't know that as she made her way across the cobblestone walkway she stared also at her shoes, her mind in strange places. "It's fine," she says coldly; however her expression softens as Suzaku looks quite a bit like a deer in the headlights. "Where are you coming from?"

"Lamperouge," he exhales.

"Have you got Bismarck next?" because that's the only conceivable reason that would explain his presence on this side of campus, that is unless he was going to the Dean's office to transfer or something.

"I'm taking a walk," he explains lamely, his eyes flickering to his wrist and then away - why is it he always thinks he's wearing a watch? Moreover, where's Lelouch?

"So was I," she says in a gentle voice; something tells him she means it. "It's all I can really do to escape the idiots who go here." Of course he knew why she'd alienated herself lately - news had gotten out that she's half-Japanese, and while he'd experience some of the prejudice himself the students of Pendragon have more or less gotten used to his presence by now.

"I know what you mean." Suzaku runs a gloved hand through his hair, onto which snow has crowded. "You just have to rise above it. They don't know any better."

"That excuse isn't good enough for me," she informs him, her blue eyes hardening. "Maybe for you, but not me. I want to do something about it."

_She sounds like Lelouch. Where is he, anyway?_ "That's a good attitude to have," he replies noncommittally, not exactly in the mood for a confrontation. Luckily she rights herself, smoothing her shirt and readjusting her bag on her shoulder, before muttering a quick 'bye' and continuing her walk.

He sighs.

A few more minutes pass before he finally catches sight of the Professor, wearing a long black coat. "I'm sorry about that. Nunnally caught me on my way out - it seems she wants to start a few new subjects with Sayoko..." he trails off, since he can't imagine Suzaku being interested in that, anyway. "Come walk with me."

Suzaku hoists his bag up, slinging it over one shoulder, and complies, slowing his step to allow Lelouch to keep up with him. "So, why are we out here again?"

Violet eyes are unreadable. "Do you enjoy living in that dorm, Suzaku?"

He thinks it over. Sure, Clovis is bearable now and there's enough food to keep his organs functioning correctly, but. "It isn't anything to write home about," he decides.

"Hm." The older plucks a few bristles from an evergreen, saying 'hello' to a bubbly female student who greeted him brightly. She titters to him about an assignment for a few minutes whilst Suzaku ponders his words before the interruption.

At last she leaves and they are alone again. "So as I was saying," Lelouch continues unabashed, "Those dorms are pitiably small places for you to live. Even I though I can tell you throughout my life I've lived in smaller places. I was thinking that perhaps I could sell my house on Arbordale and…"

Suzaku can't hear him at this point; the thoughts in his head (and his own breathing) are much, much too loud. "Are you asking me t – are you asking me to move in with you?"

Lelouch stares. "Where would you get that idea?"

"But you—I—mf." Suzaku's eyes flit away; _this is embarrassing. _"Forget I said anything." He flounders under Lelouch's gaze (that the older man should _dare _to look amused when he is in the throes of humiliation is just blasphemous to him).

Until he laughs and his stomach flips on instinct. "I'm kidding. I've been thinking about it." But he never outright asked, and the fact that Suzaku assumed—well, it hits him square in the solar plexus. "It would be much more convenient, don't you think?"

"Yeah." He adjusts that thick scarf and speeds up his step. "We wouldn't have to drive out so far away just to be alone."

Lelouch stares at the light betraying the presence of the cloud-covered sun; his pocket buzzes impatiently, in a rhythm he's come to associate with email alerts. He peeks at the sender's address and discovers it's Daniel—but he didn't even reply, did he? "Yes, and you wouldn't have to pay fees for that dorm for the rest of your life," is the absentminded reply, as Lelouch scrolls down the page to see the body of the message. _I don't mean to be pushy, but there's been talk about a job opening up in Arts and Sciences. Can you believe it? It's finally happened!_

Suddenly it's difficult to swallow; Suzaku is toying with the scarf again, saying "I think you should keep your old address on file in case Dean Carlan finds out…" or something. Lelouch keeps his eyes trained on the email ("_LaSalle is supposed to be retiring some time within the next few months—I mentioned you, of course. I remembered how much we envied her when you were still working under Promagé; how time flies, Lelouch. I faxed them your resume in case you're interested—but of course you'd be. It was the job of your dreams, or so you said.") _

It continued to illustrate Daniel's excitement about things to come, and his happiness about the new positions opening up—because apparently there are several, now that the men and women they two worked under have now reached the age of retirement.

Suzaku's eyes are much, much too green in this light. "Is something wrong?"

He stows the phone in his wooly pocket and dons a smile. "No, I… I've just started correspondence with an old colleague of mine. You know how it can sometimes be upsetting to revisit the past."

Somewhere deep in Lelouch's subconscious mind he knows it's unfair to keep Suzaku in the dark about these things, but what good would telling him do other than putting him on tenterhooks?

And of _course _the universe, in its dreadfully ironic way, would throw this right in his face the very moment he considered settling down—Lelouch, settling down! He almost wants to retract all of the sentimental thoughts he allowed himself to think earlier, merely because it's so out of character and honestly a bit out of his comfort zone to plant himself in any situation like that, but still the idea of coming home to Suzaku overrides any shame he may be feeling for being so—so—

Normal.

"Yeah." Suzaku blinks. "Euphy has all these stories she's been telling me. People I went to high school with have been wondering about me and she just tells them I'm doing okay." Of course it would not matter to him if they were upset or appalled by what he had done to her, because it had been what he wanted, and he will never be ashamed of anything (except perhaps breaking her heart; he's been certain from the very beginning that if he could erase any chapter of this convoluted tale, it would be the one in which he devastated her so easily).

They walk about another half-mile, Suzaku overcome by a desperate urge to take his lover's hand (so elegant and inviting, moving at his side), but still very aware of his classmates hurrying about around him. He talks to Lelouch about simple things one would expect a professor and student converse about, like his classes and friends and of course the old standby, weather. It's annoyingly terse conversation, as if the emotions he feels for his prince are wound tight by a rubber band. He really hates their situation sometimes.

However, as you know, reader, he really wouldn't want it any other way.

A little while later, Suzaku begins to wonder about something. "Where are we going, anyway?"

Lelouch finds it's a bit more difficult to answer than he had originally planned. "You'll see."

The hard part is, he really has no intended destination at all. The plan had only included his asking Suzaku about the proposed living situation, followed by perhaps a foray to eat somewhere, or a drive out to his house like usual. However here they are, navigating the labyrinth-like campus of the University of Pendragon, its wrought-iron railings and statues dripping with rain that slicks the reddish-brown cobblestones. Of course the school was established sometime in the 1800s and does not boast the modern buildings of Valencia or other newer institutions, but Suzaku has always thought he prefers this, the pillars and faded memorials making him think of some stately academy he'd never be able to afford.

The older male sighs, leaning against one of the columns flanking the Political Science building. "Do you have homework?"

"…Some." A lengthy paper assigned to him by Gottwald (how one really writes a paper on chemical formulas is beyond him) and some survey a guest speaker gave him in Public Relations. He almost says _what about you _but stops himself, smiling a little. "Why?"

Lelouch shakes his head; his hair is a bit damp and his eyes are bleary; what's he thinking about, anyway? "I was thinking maybe we could go and see the opera. Or just for a drive. Whatever you want."

"I don't know anything about opera."

"You don't have to. It's fairly straightforward." The older clasps the last two buttons on his coat, feeling a light wind chill against his neck. He quickly reconsiders; right, Suzaku is much more simply entertained. "What do you want to do?"

The boy shrugs, a smile lighting up his face; that, coupled with the wonderfully bedraggled way his bangs hang in his eyes, almost makes Lelouch's knees buckle. "You know I can never think of anything."

Yes, he knows that well. "Does it matter if we head back to Saffron? I still have some work to finish up." Because today he was too busy thinking about ways to get rid of Euphemia (some more humane than others) to truly dedicate himself this afternoon.

"Sure." Sometimes Suzaku would like to tell Lelouch that it doesn't matter where they go; that every moment he is graced by his company is one he would not wish to change for anything.

But it's nice to see that he cares. Even if it's something small.

––—∞—––

This chapter was quite - no, very complicated to write in many places. And I apologize for the almost-three-month wait - _so _much stuff has been going on lately, and as compensation, I will say that chapter 10 is over half done already, so it'll only be like two weeks before that one, I hope. But, I try not to make promises since inspiration really is entirely random for me at this juncture in life. But, anyway. I hope that I've managed to defeat the horrible formatting system of , and its tendency to push my italicized words into normal ones, but if it has fucked me over once more, I apologize for the annoyance. But! I'm proud of this chapter, and even more excited about the next one, so hopefully you won't hate me for it too much.

Also, I have a confession to make: I'm a review whore.

;)


	10. it's not as simple as you think

_Hey there mister sweet and awful;_

_You've got it easy, I've got my needs._

_You say what you got, wanting what you please._

**violetta 10**

––—∞—––

"So tell me again. What exactly is the point of symbolism, in the big scheme of things? Ingenious literary mechanism or pointless page-filler?"

"I think they're both opinions. I do not get paid to teach you those."

"You're no fun."

Lelouch exhales. If he had a higher threshold for pain, he would have already killed himself with any of the pens in front of him. "If you want to read a debate about symbolism, you can, be my guest. I have no doubt you know how to work Google. Quit wasting my time."

Rolo is quiet for a moment, possibly scheming, or possibly just looking out the window. Then: "I think we should talk about some of _your _writing, Professor Lamperouge. I know you're not allowed to cover it in class, but as it happens, FLAS has nearly every one of your books. Did you know that?"

The older massages his temples and prays that Rolo will remember some forgotten previous engagement. "I donated them. Our stipend for books is pitiably low." He hears the hard buzzing of his cell phone against the surface of the desk – he grabs it before Rolo can. It's Suzaku, of course, asking if he's chaperoning the trip to Valencia next week. _Regrettably, _he replies, and then looks back up at his least favorite student. "Have you read my work, Rolo?"

Rolo gives him a look as if to say '_but of course'. _"Oddly enough, I'm not as big a fan of your novels as I am your book of poetry. I worry that the translations aren't exact."

Lelouch surmises that Rolo must be talking about _L'Enfant Oublié, (The Forgotten Child) _a collection of poems in which he'd painted thinly veiled portraits of his family and wove them into clever little riddles and short stories. It had been a dual-column work, French on the left, Britannian on the right. "I approved them all; obviously I proofread before I let them publish it."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." Rolo gets to his feet and approaches his own messenger bag, lying on the ground near one of the large bookcases lining the eastern wall of Lelouch's classroom. He pulls out a copy of the aforementioned book and brings it to Lelouch, placing it in front of him almost expectantly. "The reviews gush about you. That you're 'an old soul' and all."

Lelouch traces the back cover of the book with his fingers, looking at the picture he'd taken for the biography. It was five years ago, his hair was a bit longer, and his bleary violets were somewhat unfocused (he had not yet had the eye exam that forever doomed him to glasses). He'd still been in college himself when it was published. "Why do you think this is appealing to me, Rolo? Don't you know that writing gets better with age?" He flips through the pages, landing on a few stanzas he'd written on Cornelia – a princess swindled into espionage, only to be gunned down in the Louvre by the brother she'd betrayed (this Schneizel was far more emotional than his real-life counterpart, and was called 'Gaspar'). He snorts.

Rolo sits back down in his chair, undaunted. "I like it. It's probably the only piece that really says something about you. The others are mainly harsh and political. Does Suzaku read your books?"

"He hasn't shown much interest in them, no." Though Suzaku isn't much of a reader anyway; he prefers old movies, specifically black and white ones where every actor and actress has a cottony, grainy voice. Lelouch never quite understood the appeal in these, nor does he quite comprehend why Suzaku of all people likes them, but then they hadn't talked much about it. "I don't blame him. He'd probably look at me differently if he did."

"Hm. Different versions. I thought so."

"What're you talking about?"

"I always thought people showed different versions of themselves to different people, depending on how they feel about those people. For instance, I'm sure you don't treat Suzaku the same way you treat me. You want Suzaku to like you. Therefore, you don't show him the _real _you."

"Just because my personality is different around him doesn't mean it's any less authentic…" Lelouch yawns and stares at the ceiling fan. Two more hours until Rolo goes back to Nester, and he himself plucks Suzaku from whomsoever he's hanging out with today. "You are the one who doesn't know me. And the fact that you're trying so hard to change that is what is making me act this way. Fool."

"I always wondered." Rolo messes with one of Lelouch's pens. "When it comes down to it… Who's on top? You or Suzaku?"

A foul moment crawls by; Lelouch feels disgust bleeding through him, disgust backed by a desire to break Rolo's nose. But he doesn't. "I wonder who wronged you in your life to make you this way, Rolo."

"To make me curious? I suppose it was God." The brown-haired teen puts the pen down. "I hope you know the only reason I ask these things is to watch your reaction. It's amazing. You try so hard to look composed and then it shatters so quickly. At least Suzaku is up front about his insecurity."

"If you've annoyed me to this point just for a character study I suppose you have to be applauded for your persistence, Rolo." Lelouch sighs – he seriously considers just picking up his briefcase, gritting his teeth, and walking out of here. But he won't give Rolo the satisfaction. "Do you have any more questions about my writing, my personal life, or my self image, or can we move on?" He opens his desk drawer and pulls out this year's curriculum as well as a yellow highlighter, going down the list of everything they've covered thus far. He mock-gasps. "Look at that! Only four more topics to go."

Limpid purplish eyes follow Lelouch's fingers. "Only four?"

"Only." Lelouch smiles. "It's almost upsetting. I won't have anyone to exercise my wit with once we're finished for the semest…er." He's no longer looking at Rolo, but at the figure that's just come through the door. Suzaku has two takeout boxes in his hands, and is smiling rather meekly at him, as if to apologize for barging in. His eyes fall on Rolo and become impassive. "Suzaku – I thought you were studying for your exams?"

The Japanese youth shrugs. "I was trying to, but Rivalz wouldn't stop talking, so I told him I had to go and turn in some papers. Are you – " he pauses for a second, eyeing Rolo as Rolo eyes him, then averts his gaze. "Are you almost done tutoring, Professor? I thought we could eat together." He acts like the other students that invite Lelouch to lunch – invitations he usually politely declines, saying that others will get jealous (because despite most of the freshman class knowing his orientation, there's still the occasional hopeful wearing too much makeup). "I mean, if you're finished."

Lelouch struggles to look away from Suzaku and focuses on the clock. "Just give me five minutes. You can come sit down."

The look on Rolo's face is truly priceless. Lelouch wishes he could've gotten photographic proof of it. "Professor – I thought it was two hours."

"I'll make up for the lost time next week." Suzaku pulls up a metal folding chair; it creaks across the floor, and Lelouch notices that the sound makes him wince. "Don't mind Suzaku, anyway. The review will help him too." The ironic part is that Suzaku needs the tutoring much more than Rolo, his grade teetering between pass and fail by mere decimal points. Lelouch is convinced neither of them will pay the review any attention. "All right, Rolo. Explain to me the concept of symbols."

"A symbol merely signifies or stands for something else." Rolo won't look at him. "Metaphors change more readily than symbols, because symbols normally signify something concrete."

"Indeed." Lelouch looks at Suzaku, and Suzaku smiles, but then won't meet his eyes from that point on. "Many people actually consider symbolism a period in literary history. It can be used as a general term for many new writing styles following new avant-garde movements, such as expressionism, surrealism, existentialism, or whatever else. I however, consider symbolism a literary device and a device only. The idea that it's some sort of_ movement – "_

_"_Is a credible one," Rolo cuts across him rather briskly; Suzaku blinks. "Besides, most people say that the concept of symbolism is too vast to be explained. If someone wants to call himself a symbolist, or be part of a movement and call it symbolism, then why can't he?"

"I have to remind you that I do not teach ethics. Take that up with Professor Fletcher. Moreover, I disagree with you in every way possible. Symbolism merely became more prevalent at the turn of the century, and because of that, people have to make it some sort of revolution. It's preposterous." He taps one of his pens against the edge of the desk in a loud, persistent rhythm, mind buzzing.

"Close-mindedness is one of the most crippling traits possible," murmurs Rolo. "Suzaku, don't you think people should listen to others' opinions rather than just rejecting them?"

Suzaku looks at him much like a deer confronted with an oncoming car. "I – I really don't know all that much about this."

"Rolo." Lelouch closes the book of answers he's been looking at. "I think we can pick up here next week, when you aren't tempted to bring other people into our discussions. Please leave."

The shorter male sighs. "Cutting short a tutoring session for social time. I'd expect it from the other professors, but not from you." He picks up his bag and, with one less scathing look, disappears.

Suzaku watches his retreating back. "I feel like that was my fault."

"Oh come off it, Suzaku. He doesn't even need any tutoring in the first place," Lelouch says crossly. Suzaku takes the more comfortable chair Rolo left behind. "It's maddening, it really is. He must spend a lot of time thinking of ways to piss me off."

"He did seem pretty serious about that listening to opinions thing." Suzaku pushes the older's lunch across the table and tears open a packet of salt. "But wow. I hate to say it, but." He mixes the salt around in his rice. "You two make me feel stupid."

"Don't say that. You're not stupid, Suzaku." Still brimming with irritation, Lelouch is sure he doesn't sound very convincing, but Suzaku just replies with an 'mm' and keeps eating. "He brought in my book and decided to start giving me a lecture about my morals."

Green eyes flick up to greet his. "You shouldn't let it get to you." It bothers him, really, that Rolo gets under Lelouch's skin so much. Not only because he feels bad for Lelouch, but it also makes him paranoid that the professor thinks about Rolo more than he thinks about _him. _That thought makes the rice a little harder to eat. "I think I should sleep over. Take your mind off things."

"I would, but it's Sayoko's night off. I have Nunnally." And while his sister may be impaired, she isn't an idiot, and he isn't too keen on the idea of her overhearing his and Suzaku's lovemaking. "Tomorrow night, I'll stay with you."

Suzaku's mouth twists, but he seems satisfied enough. "Yeah. Okay. I'll have to clean…" Clovis is coming back from a trip in three days (the pre-law students had toured a few national courthouses and he'd been left alone for a week – silence, blessed silence) and the brunet is convinced his roommate's tidy ways will clash horribly with the tornado of clothes and books that currently litter their floor. Still, he's excited by the prospect of Lelouch staying overnight – he hasn't in a while, and nights have been lonely… "Mmf."

"I know what you're thinking, and I agree." Lelouch smiles distantly at him. "C.C. has been making fun of me. She says I've been hugging my pillow inappropriately."

"Have you?"

"Maybe I have. I know I've been having… dreams."

"Me too."

After a moment of eye contact, Suzaku feels his face growing hot. He shovels rice into his mouth and Lelouch smiles – if it weren't for his job, he most certainly would've moved in with this boy already.

This reminds him. _Daniel. The University of Paris._

_Job._

Lelouch licks his lips. Mention it, or don't mention it. The ways Suzaku could react are endless – that's what's so disconcerting about all of this. Suzaku _could _smile brightly and tell him that following his dream was the right way to go. Then, Suzaku _could_– and more than likely _would –_launch into a depression fueled by the idea that Lelouch would leave him for something as small as a job.

But it isn't small. It's huge, the opportunity that crept up on him after five years, finally happening long after he gave up hoping for it. Conveniently right in the middle of his most intriguing and tugging relationship yet, with a boy who has no clue just how much this means to him and probably wouldn't ever understand, no matter how long he tried to explain it. It isn't that he doesn't trust Suzaku – he does, very much so in fact – it's that he doesn't trust himself. If he were forced to choose between the job and Suzaku, Lelouch would honestly say

(_I don't know)._

That's what's so terrifying about this. Heading the _Linguistique Ministère _was the second real dream he ever had.

The first was being able to cut ties from the monarchy. Give up his title and give Nunnally a better life. When that dream came to impossible fruition, he'd aspired to something else. Something else he thought he'd never be able to do – until three days ago, when that message had _ping_'d so innocently in his inbox. He'd been elated; bursting with excitement – until he realized Suzaku was walking next to him. Then all he'd felt was guilt.

Lelouch notices that it seems to be a recurring theme in their repertoire.

Keeping his eyes trained on Suzaku, he breathes out and takes a bite of his food.

––—∞—––

"This year's basketball tournament is supposed to be a weird one." Rivalz swipes his bangs off his forehead, eyes skimming a pamphlet he'd ripped off a bulletin board outside one of the microbiology labs. "You hear some people actually want to stay overnight at Valencia?"

Suzaku nods, not really paying attention. "You should go," he says absentmindedly to Rivalz, who's reading the bulletin while perched atop the arm of the couch. "You like basketball, don't you?"

"The following will accompany the aforementioned students to the tournament: Bismarck, Nu, Gottwald, and Lamperouge."

At this, he frowns. "I've been wondering why he's chaperoning that. He told me he didn't want to."

"It's probably required." The bluenette takes a swig of his – whatever that is – and hops off the couch, relocating himself to sit on the windowsill. Suzaku wonders why he's even allowed to have sugar. "You should go. Euphy and Shirley are."

Attempting to focus yet again on the speech he was supposed to read for his Oratory class, Suzaku replies, "I wouldn't know where to buy a ticket or anything like that."

"In the Orientation Center," Rivalz supplies promptly. "C'mon, man! Don't you want to watch us take the trophy? You won't have anything to do with Lelouch gone."

Before he can answer, there's a knock at the door; Rivalz answers it to Euphemia, who is wearing blue jeans and a rather bulky gray sweater today. A strange outfit for someone usually so girly. "Did you hear about the tournament—"

"We were just talking about it." Suzaku shuts his phone, exhaling. "Do you think I should go?" Of course, Euphemia is probably the wrong person to ask; she nods emphatically, the pink hair around her face bobbing. "I don't know. I'm thinking about it."

"You'd better think fast, tickets stop being sold tomorrow," she says effervescently, sitting on the sofa and looking at the speech he was supposed to be reading. "I already did a paper on this." Predictably. Since she transferred to Pendragon, Suzaku is willing to bet Euphemia brought up the cumulative GPA for their entire grade. "But you really _should _go, Suzaku, everyone is, including-"

"Lelouch, I know," he cuts across with another sigh, this one less weighted, and feels his face soften at the sight of her expression. "I might go. I have plenty of time to go to the orientation hall if I want to buy a ticket."

"I know you do." She sighs and pushes a curtain of hair over her shoulder. Suzaku takes a seat on the arm of the couch, looking out the window at the swiftly falling and thick snow. His mind wanders to Lelouch and he wonders if the older is busying himself with grades, or more likely deflecting C.C.'s acid remarks. Faintly, he notices Euphy is tying his shoes and their eyes meet - she's always liked to mother him, after all.

Rivalz watches the scene. The girl's still in love with Suzaku, it's written in black and white - the way her breath seems to catch when he speaks to her, or when they touch, usually only by chance movements rather than any deliberate displays of affection. He supposes it's just another part of growing up, to see his friends encounter the push-and-pull of love lost. Which, inevitably, brings Milly to mind, as well as the other night, when she informed him pointedly that she 'didn't want anything serious'. J_ust my luck, right?_

They both look up; was he really breathing that loud, Rivalz wonders, and hurriedly he smiles at them and starts talking about the Tournament again. Suzaku puts in, as uninterested as he's always been of late, and Euphemia formulates her enthusiastic replies, periwinkle orbs sparkling like the sun lit them.

Yet another knock on the door jolts him out of that particular reverie; Suzaku is the one to answer it. When he gets up the laces pull from Euphemia's grasp, as messy as before, and come to find, it's Lelouch in the doorway. "Hello, Professor Lamperouge," he calls out politely, and the dark-haired man nods to him; simultaneously he sees hurt spider-web across Euphemia's face, quickly replaced by the blank expression she usually wears in his presence.

The pair stand in the doorway, but Lelouch never comes in; Suzaku merely talks to him in a hushed voice, quickly and tangentially, talking with his hands. The older replies smoothly, gently, but at the same volume. He says something short, Suzaku laughs a bit and they both smile, then the Professor dips off to the right, where his own living quarters are.

Suzaku shuts the door, seeming much less wound-up than before. He sits once more.

Euphemia says, "What was that about?"

The brunet boy shakes his head; but his smile does not falter. "Nothing, he just wanted to tell me I left some stuff at his house."

"You two talk out in the open like that? I mean, doesn't anyone…suspect anything?" Euphy tilts her head to the side.

"The RA knows," Rivalz informs her, "It's cool, though. He's got a thing for Suzaku too."

She nods, once, clearly mulling over that fact as she goes to work on the laces yet again. Suzaku watches her, his green eyes elsewhere (an elsewhere probably populated by Lelouch). "I think I'm going to go to the tournament," he decides. "I mean, like you said. I wouldn't have anything else to do, anyway."

"Yeah, Suzaku!" the blue-haired boy exclaims. "Knew you'd come around eventually! It just took Lelouch to change your mind!"

"It isn't about Lelouch," Suzaku shakes his head; though it very plainly _is _about Lelouch, like most everything else in his life at this point. Euphemia watches him, feeling very much like she's behind a glass wall, forced to watch all of this - but she's only here because she loves him.

And she suspects that in the end, it isn't going to matter if Suzaku wants her - that she will always find herself being pulled back to him in this way, a magnet unavoidably attracted to his charge. When she said she loved him, she did not lie. Even now, it is her plan to continue to prove it to him.

Whether that makes sense or not is of no consequence.

––—∞—––

**Daniel (and others who may be reading over his shoulder),**

**I'm sure you're tired of talking to me via email, but I'm pleased to inform you that this time next week, we will speak **_**en personne**_**. Don't tell anyone I'm coming – good surprises are too few nowadays.**

**-Lelouch**

––—∞—––

It is under the head-splittingly bright and invasive fluorescent lights of the Valencia Honors' Stadium that Lelouch watches Euphemia.

Of course, this would not be a particularly rare occurrence (considering he does see her every day anyway), but what makes it odd is that she is wandering around the Valencia Stadium without her ever-present accessory: Suzaku.

He's almost certain Suzaku is at the concession stand with Rivalz, paying inflated amounts for poor-quality snack food; the fact that his ex-girlfriend is not hanging on him as per usual is what makes Lelouch's brow rumple, what makes his mouth jaunt upward in his trademark smirk. Perhaps she allowed the truth to sink into her thick love struck skull and finally understood that Suzaku's affection for her was no more? Perhaps she is going to sit with a new boyfriend who has less of a preference for the _Y_-chromosome.

The absence of C.C. allows him to stare at whomever he pleases without getting any flack for it - the lurid-haired witch usually questions his motives with the prowess of a psychologist, and then belittles him for whatever perspective from which she chooses to view them Now, however, he just hopes the pink-haired girl doesn't notice the way his violet eyes slink across the crowded dome-shaped room to follow her, or the way his fingers drum one-by-one against the fabric of his slack-clad leg.

Then again, logic would dictate that from her position in the stands above him, the Professor must look something like a black ant.

"Professor?"

Rolo clutches a bag of orange popcorn - Lelouch thinks that's strange, as the boy would normally dub that _commoner food_ or something equally arrogant. "Hello, Rolo," he replies, rather stiffly.

"What're you doing in the Student Section?"

"I was told by the Dean to keep an eye on the students," he replies simply. Something about making a good impression on the faculty at Valencia, though he doubts any of_ them_ are forced to attend amateur sporting events - he tried to send a telepathic message to Dean Carlan along the lines of _I'd better get a raise for this. _But in all honesty it probably had no effect.

"Ah, I see." To his intense irritation Rolo sits, crossing his legs. "It's nice to be back here again. The auditorium at Pendragon is so poorly manicured."

Lelouch hums indiscriminately, his eyes slipping up to the higher stands once more. With a jolt of warmth in his chest, he spots a particularly familiar messy brown head moving through the crowd, and hopes rather strongly that the boy will notice him as well. Probably not. "If you loathe Pendragon so much, why do you stoop so low as to study there?"

"I asked myself the same question while enrolling," Rolo informs him. "But now if I told you my response, it would have to do mostly with you. So, let's talk about something else. How did Suzaku react to our date the other night?"

_Business meeting, you crooked-toothed pedant._ "I don't think he cared." However, Suzaku cared very much and still does, if the subtle ache in his behind is any indication, "He isn't as easily influenced as you are."

"Easily influenced?"

He looks up to see Suzaku, a bag of popcorn in each hand and one chestnut eyebrow quirked. Rivalz is nowhere to be found.

"Hello, Suzaku," Rolo says with a mellifluous smile, "How're you finding the game?"

"Fine," the brunet replies, his green eyes frosting over as they meet lavender ones. "Aren't you going to sit with Kallen?"

Rolo thinks this over, an expression of mock-contemplation sprawling over his face. "Well, she's normally content to be alone, so I think I'll leave her be. Besides, what other opportunities do I have to sit with Professor Lamperouge, such a cultured and passionate contemporary?"

"I wouldn't call it passionate," Lelouch murmurs sourly, his eyes still trained on Suzaku. He considers blackmailing Rolo with the promise of a grade cut, but thinks better of it - besides, the Dean would notice the sudden dip in his average, and question him as to why he's no longer maintaining that 4.0. "Mr. Haliburton, if you want to be helpful, then take this and buy me something to drink." He peels a five out of his wallet and waves his hand, granting Rolo an artificial smile.

The shorter male takes the note and descends the bleachers, his gait coloured with purpose. Lelouch exhales mirthfully, and Suzaku smiles.

"You know he'll be back soon, right?" the brunet boy offers one of his popcorn bags, to which Lelouch scowls. "Sorry. I forgot you hated junk food." He shrugs and pops a piece in his mouth, watching as two brawly players scuttle about in an overdramatic tussle for the basketball. Through the corner of his eye, Suzaku sees Lelouch watch the game with stalwart disinterest, and feels his eyes narrow with a smile. "You couldn't take sick leave for this, could you?"

"Don't think I didn't try," replies the older, remembering his inquisition upon the Dean in his office forty-eight hours before. "All of the other professors that were chosen to chaperone just _love_ watching hormone-fueled egotists run up and down the court... but I on the other hand..." he shakes his head, willing away his irritation.

"You'd rather be watching a regional chess match. So you could tell all the players what they're doing wrong." Suzaku crunches at his popcorn, "Am I right?"

Lelouch smirks. "You know me well, Suzaku." Spotting Rolo a few hundred yards away, he speaks again, voice harried. "Would you mind if we took a detour?"

––—∞—––

That question was followed by the professor and his much quicker student ascending a loud, clanging metal staircase to the long roof of the Valencia Honors' Stadium - a roof giving him a spectacular view of the city's buildings, many of which glow with multicolored lights. It's always been more manicured than Pendragon, most likely because of the sky-high taxes the residents pay.

Wind nips at Suzaku's neck, driving his teeth to chatter unattractively.

"I don't see why it had to be the roof."

"Because I didn't exactly want Rolo making that game even more miserable for us both." Lelouch does up his silver-buttoned coat, watching the younger boy. "Aren't you cold in that?"

Standing unabashed in his black T-shirt, Suzaku just shrugs and lifts himself to sit on the edge of the stone wall. His chest flares, briefly, as he looks over the edge and sees just how high up they are - it's quite impossible to reach the roof of Pendragon stadiums, as they're traditionally dome-shaped. "What do you figure he thinks happened to us?"

_'He has to have taken the hint' _is the first thought that crosses his mind, but '_he's probably sitting there grinning with those crooked teeth and waiting for me to come back for more witty banter' _is the second. "Who knows," is the thought Suzaku is privy to, just before he joins him on the wall. Chestnut brows rise as Lelouch would typically find sitting on a concrete wall disgusting or uncivilized. "Did you think I was going to ignore you for the entire tournament?"

Earlier today, that was exactly the prediction Suzaku had made - and he'd anticipated C.C. being thrown in the mix, too. However, the Professor is wonderfully alone. "It didn't cross my mind," he says, lost in his own thoughts. Specifically, ones of the previous weeks. "Lelouch, I wanted to say I'm sorry. For the way I treated you after you came home from your dinner."

"It wasn't anything I haven't endured before," the older says mistily, his otherworldly eyes on the sky. "Let's not drown in self-pity this evening, Suzaku, just try and enjoy yourself."

The brunet boy exhales. _Sorry, _he says inwardly, this time for being redundant. Suzaku supposes it's a blessing that the other isn't angry with him; however, with the Lelouch-induced sixth sense he's developed he still senses an inkling of discomfort - and perhaps the realization that Lelouch knows he's _still_ jealous, no matter how many friends give good speeches to incline him otherwise. "It's a full moon," he points out.

Lelouch nods once, an expression resembling peace sliding across his face. "A full moon," he says, "is a sign of new beginnings. Or so my mother always said." Lady Marianne had sat on a hill with her adolescent son and mused about the various shining apparitions on the sky's canvas. It was one of the rare moments he can recall having spent alone with his mother. "In reality, its appearance is only a result of light and shadow."

Suzaku watches the moon intently. "Still, it's a nice thing to look at."

"If all you want in life are nice things to look at, you've made a most admirable choice in a romantic partner."

"Ha-ha. Please. I'm just waiting for you to get boring. Then it's back to girls."

At this, they both laugh, new noise on the canvassed background of cheering from the stands below. Euphoria clouds Lelouch's mind, forces a rather childish smile onto his usually impassive face, and makes it nearly impossible for him to think of anything other than this night, Suzaku, and the roof. One of which he's already quite used to being obsessed with. At this thought, he smiles –

"What're you thinking about?" asks Suzaku, with a grin of his own – the kind that shows all his teeth, pushes out his cheekbones and renders his professor thoughtless. The older lets his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "If it's me, then I think you like me more than you say you do, Professor."

Lelouch sighs. "Always assuming." In reality, at that moment, he'd been thinking about the University of Paris at the Sorbonne, and Daniel, and the attitude of the woman from which he'd brought his plane ticket this morning. She'd been three-quarters C.C.-wit, one-quarter unattractive. Perhaps that was the reason for her bitterness. "What foreign countries have you visited, Suzaku?"

"Just Japan – well, obviously, I was… born there." Suzaku huffs at himself. "None, I guess. Why?"

The professor feels his mouth pull outward a bit, an expression of malcontent. "I suppose I should just tell you. I'm going to Paris on Tuesday."

Suzaku doesn't necessarily look surprised, just a bit confused. "For business?"

"Something like that." Lelouch takes off his coat, noticing how uncomfortable Suzaku looks sprawled on the ground like that, and spreads it for him, a makeshift-blanket. The brunet's expression does not change. "A few colleagues of mine would like to take me to see what's changed since I left."

"It – I mean, not that much can change in a few years, can it…?"

"I left in 2000," Lelouch enlightens him, irked by the very idea of Suzaku trying to talk him out of it. A cruel twinge lines his words, "I certainly hope things have changed for you since elementary school, Suzaku."

Suzaku's gaze hardens. "You don't have to get ugly about it," he replies, the hurt on his face growing more prominent with speech. "Why did you bring it up like you were going to take me with you?"

The euphoria, hot and heavy just moments before, plummets into a haranguing, exasperated feeling that casts itself across Lelouch's face. "I thought you would take it better if I did. It's only a week I'm going to be gone, Suzaku, really –"

Huff. What was that, a scoff, or an innocent exhalation? "I get the feeling it's more than a business trip if you're so eaten up by me getting mad about it."

What?

Oh.

_Really?_

"What, do you think I'm having an affair or something?"

Suzaku looks at him, mouth slightly agape, brow knitted.

"That's not what I meant at all." But now, thanks to Lelouch and his – and his – he can't even be bothered to think of an adjective to describe him right now – the thought is blossoming, like some revolting flower, and immediately he's besieged by mental images: _his _Lelouch writhing and panting under some handsome stranger, himself some stray thought back in Britannia, to be dealt with later. "But I know lying to people isn't beneath you."

"Everyone lies," Lelouch says offhandedly, rolling his eyes. "Suzaku, be reasonable. Why would I pay a huge amount of money, pack my bags and renew my passport, and ride in an overcrowded airplane just to cheat on you? I'm not _made _of money, you know."

Suzaku just stares at him.

Relentlessly. Probingly, like a scientist observing some cryogenically preserved cave dweller. The kind of stare that's marked by narrowed eyes, tight lips, and in this case, green eyes going cold fast.

"Forget I said anything… enjoy your trip."

Lelouch sighs again. This young man, with whom he's so hopelessly enamored, and with whom he's so much _happier _than he's ever been before_–_can be a real pain in the ass with that low self-esteem of his. "Suzaku… you… idiot," he finally says, jaw tightening, "Once again, I'm not going to France to cheat on you_. _Imagine if Rivalz, Shirley, and Euphemia –" his eyes yearn to roll once more- "lived in a different country, and when you told me you were going to visit them, I decided to ignore my own - obviously profound - effect on you, and give way to childish paranoia. Imagine that situation, and tell me you wouldn't be annoyed."

"_I_ wouldn't be annoyed." Suzaku's eyes flicker. "Because in case I didn't tell you enough times, _I _happen to love you. Anyway, you'd never act that way. You're too proud."

At _I love you _Lelouch stopped listening. "Suzaku – " he cuts himself off, pressing a hand to his temple. How his head aches in these emotionally tiring arguments. "I'm going to France, and then I am coming back. It's not a move; it's not me leaving you for anything. All right?"

He tries to ignore how broken up over it all Suzaku looks. Lelouch really, really does. Separation anxiety? Suzaku?

…it makes sense.

Sort of.

He exhales. "I'll call you every day – "

"Lelouch, let's just stop talking about it," the boy says quickly, firmly, rolling over on the coat to face away from him as if they're in bed. "Now look at the moon or do whatever you brought me up here for. Please." His form grows still, but the professor still watches, his mind buzzing, and a rather stupid expression on his face. He couldn't possibly have thought Suzaku would take the trip thing and just run with it, could he? Yet he had, working his way to the subject in that stupid way, and then rocketing into a huge defensive speech when the boy had expressed his characteristic insecurities.

Not a very adult thing to do.

"I'm sorry, Suzaku. I didn't mean to upset you."

A long sigh can be heard, but otherwise the brunet says nothing. Lelouch knows he isn't ignoring him out of any sort of cruelty; Suzaku is probably just lost for words. He stares at the few visible stars in the sky above Valencia and tries to lose himself in them.

––—∞—––

Certainly the reader noticed the absence of Shirley in recent scenes. While Lelouch has been squiring Suzaku about Pendragon, and Rivalz has been formulating simple melodies to master on his guitar, a certain ginger-haired girl has been tirelessly acquainting herself with the themes, motifs, and most importantly the script of, Shakespeare's _Macbeth. _For many years, the students and faculty of Pendragon University have sat through dull re-enactments of many a theatrical masterpiece – but luckily, the new play director has broken the monotony here.

However, Shirley would consider the choice of herself for the female leading role a lapse in judgment on his part, and as she sits under the annoyingly bright fluorescents in her dressing room, that opinion only intensifies.

Because really. Her? As Lady Macbeth? Only a consuming desire to be noticed, admired even, had brought her to every practice, and here today – certainly not the idea that she could even attempt to master such a complicated role. As she listens to the soprano-flavored titters of the girls around her, so much more confident about their wonderfully less important parts.

Opening night, she thinks stiffly, is supposed to be exciting._ You're the lead, act like it._

Then there are Suzaku and Rivalz. She knows they'll be there, the bluenette perhaps having swindled his way into getting front row seats, and Suzaku lost in thoughts of Lulu – Lelouch – Professor Lamperouge. She swirls a brush in a jar of makeup and pats at her skin with it, her mind abuzz with a myriad of questions, each pertaining to certain milestones in that honestly random professor-student relationship. When she had seen them together, Shirley couldn't help but feel that they didn't like each other very much at _all_– but then, maybe that's what they want people to think. Like Rolo, whose crush on Lelouch is not so hidden.

Finally, there is Euphemia, who is the only person Shirley gets around to seeing between practices. She mentions Suzaku as much as she used to, mostly little things, ("I hope I can get help with my homework… maybe Suzaku will…") but they do not go without emotion, as if she's simply dying for Shirley to talk about him, as well.

Honestly, while Suzaku is a very good friend of hers, lately Shirley has felt little desire to see him. Anyone with a brain would conclude, correctly, that it's because of Lelouch – and while the redhead _knows_she's too mature to get petty and jealous, the spiteful thoughts and phrases still come to her. Even Rivalz said their relationship doesn't make any sense.

In any case, thinking about Suzaku and Lelouch will do little to help her remember her lines. Shirley exhales and, her face properly made-up, fishes into her bag for her worn copy of_ Macbeth._

––—∞—––

Lelouch and C.C. (who he continues to pass off as a live-in girlfriend) watch the performance from the Faculty Box, otherwise deserted but for Dean Carlan in the very back row (of course he'd flock to an event like this, the sentimental old card).

"I find it strange that they'd cast Shirley as Lady Macbeth," Lelouch says, "She's a manipulative shrew of a character, in my opinion." He watches Shirley transform into just the right type of woman to play such a ruthless wife, transcending the dynamics of adolescent acting into something more flourishing - and he must commend the play director for choosing her.

C.C. says, "I do like her hair color," tipping up a red-and-white striped bag of popcorn so the last of it falls into her mouth. There's something calmer about Lelouch when he's watching a play or listening to the opera, perhaps a result of being raised in a family in which the performing arts were heavily emphasized, even doted upon, or maybe because of his own tendency to make the smallest life situations into clusterfucks. Either way, she rather enjoys seeing him so whimsical.

Sometime during the third act, as Macbeth and Banquo are conversing in the palace (the lead is rather dry, really, his lines lacking any real motivation, but the professor is quite sure this boy starts for the football team and only acquired the part thanks to the idiotic superhuman status athletes seem to glean in this stage of life), Lelouch gets to his feet and hurries through the Faculty Box, descending the burgundy auditorium stairs to the small cloister in which the bathrooms are located. Here, he answers his buzzing phone.

It's Nunnally. "Lelouch," she says, and he smiles at the relief in her voice, "Is the play over yet?"

"It's about halfway through." He looks at himself in the mirror and spots a stray thread hanging from his suit jacket. After plucking it off, the rather rudimentary ticket he purchased for the performance sails to the floor. He leaves it. "I'll be home in about two hours. Is Sayoko still with you?"

There is some scuffle as the phone is handed over. "Master Lelouch," confirms his hired caretaker. "Miss Nunnally is having trouble with her math work, and I tried to help her, but it's been so very long since I ever laid eyes on anything she had..."

"I'll help her when I come home. Thank you." Though he doubts Nunnally will be awake by then as she's so easily tuckered out, so the rest of the evening will most likely consist of his mechanically rehearsed arguments with C.C. and half-assed attempts at real sleep. Normally he would bring Suzaku home with him, but the boy told him that he'd be staying with Rivalz and a few of their other friends. At that point Lelouch had been besieged with images of adolescents building blanket forts and inquired no more. "Did she eat her dinner?"

Sayoko informs him of that, as well as certain questions she has about Nunnally's clothing sizes (since he himself doesn't have the time or the patience for shopping trips, and the ignoramuses who ask him questions about his sister's disabilities; oftentimes it takes all he has not to cuss store employees to tears). After that, he bids her goodnight and hangs up.

Then exhales.

This the first night in several weeks that he will spend without even seeing Suzaku, the last occasion during the tournament, which he could not help. He has no expertise in these matters, since all of his previous relationships ended before he truly grew attached to his partner. Suzaku has made plain just how much he misses him when they are separate, but regardless of circumstance, Lelouch never anticipated feeling so damn _frustrated _with the idea of spending an evening without his messy-haired Literature major.

_Grow up, _he tells himself stiffly,_ you're thirty years old. _Lelouch surveys his face in the mirror and finds a small frown line on his forehead - this disconcerts him greatly as he never thought himself one to fret over silly things. Worrying, he's always told himself, does nothing but exacerbate the problem, but as human nature goes talking himself out of things is seldom if ever effective. Luckily, walking away is.

Back in the theater, C.C. informs him of everything that happened when he left. Irked, he informs her that not only has he seen Macbeth dozens of times, but also that he wrote his dissertation on Shakespeare and nothing is news to him. The green-haired woman turns her nose up at him as always, ("_You don't need to get ugly about it")_and resumes snarfing down her popcorn.

However, he speaks next. "Do you think Suzaku is here?"

"Probably. Isn't he friends with 'Lady Macbeth'?"

"Yes." Then again, Suzaku had mentioned that he and Shirley have been growing apart, and that Rivalz is really the only other person who graces him with his company. "I just wonder where the freshman section is. I haven't been in here since last summer." When the Arts and Sciences Department sat in on their yearly briefing from Dean Carlan, why they could not use one of the numerous meeting rooms on campus is unknown. He had sat, annoyed, while other professors tapped away on their phones, played cards, or ate during the meeting (and these were supposed to be well-educated men and women with _seniority _over him).

"I think you're being a bit obsessive." C.C. says with her usual brand of blistering nonchalance, "Let him spend some time with his friends. I never thought you would be one to _cling."_ To be perfectly honest, it annoys her much more than it should. With her, Lelouch had exercised the same laissez-faire attitude he applies to his work and non-romantic social conquests - as if their relationship was a business deal. The fact that Suzaku does not receive the same perfunctory treatment has always left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy, witch?" he watches her in his violet-hued peripheral vision, a light smile curving his mouth.

"Hardly," she deflects, her pale lips puckering, "I was just pointing something out. You and Suzaku spend every waking moment together. I find it difficult to believe you don't get bored of him."

"Your transparency is more entertaining than any argument I could broach." Lelouch clears his throat. "Watch the play."

So she does, golden eyes misty upon the decorated teenager-laden stage. Lelouch's perceptiveness has always been a mixed blessing, in that he always seems to know what is bothering her - but there are some times when it's just better that he doesn't know, especially now. "Do you think perhaps if his father was alive, he'd be the same?"

"I have no doubt that he would be quite different, as would I," he reminds her pointedly, eyes sharp. "Had Mother survived, I would be wearing imperial jewels and enduring equestrian training rather sitting in this auditorium with you. With all due respect, that was a pointless question." In addition, had C.C.'s mother been a bit less overbearing, she would not be here either - most likely working a high paying job in journalism, as she'd originally planned to do. That snarky mouth was just _born _for snot-nosed reporting. "Though I suppose it isn't without good intention... do you really care, or?"

Her brow relaxes. "I don't care about much anymore, Lelouch."

"I suppose that's my fault, in part."

"How so?" her eyes narrow.

Lelouch allows himself to take a stroll down memory lane. "Do you even remember it, or have you blocked it out?"

"I'm not sure which thing you're speaking of. When you left me?"

"Yes." He crosses his legs, something gnawing not so subtly at his intestines. Guilt, hot and heavy. "You _do _know I didn't mean to hurt you, right?"

She looks at the stage. "You stressed that point. I don't think I could forget it considering how many times you repeated yourself." The Lelouch she knew then, while he wasn't as affectionate with her as he is with Suzaku, had a finely functioning moral compass, complete with guilt and all of the other potentially undoing human emotions. She remembers with surprising clarity the way he'd pounded on her door with those bony knuckles. "I forgave you already."

His face is incredulous. "Forgive, but never forget. The age-old standby. But I suppose I can't blame you. It can't have been easy to find out about."

"It wasn't." Of course, she'd never explicitly _caught _him cheating on her, but having grown up in a house in which her father did the same, the signs weren't difficult to recognize. "As much as I resent it, you were a gentleman about telling me. That's all I could ask for." She makes a pointed effort not to look at his bewitching face, for fear that all of that resentment will go down the drain at the sight of it, just as it did all those years ago. "Maybe I'm just surprised that you haven't cheated on Suzaku yet."

Lelouch's eyes close, a slow, deliberate-looking motion. "You aren't the only one." Because, apparently, the new Lelouch would never _dream _of it, submitting himself to the emotional stigma of kissing a different pair of lips, of allowing anyone else intimate contact with him. She finds it deeply and almost comically primeval, as if he is Suzaku's now, and infidelity will taint him - Lelouch, immoral and prone-to-unfaithfulness Lelouch, appalled by the idea of anyone else's hands on him! How blasphemous, C.C. muses, but the look in his eyes makes her reconsider.

Perhaps now he is the way he would have been had his mother lived. Perhaps now he respects others, trusts himself. She fell in love with this man ten years ago, in love with the charisma and brilliance and the drive, unaware of the fatal flaws he possessed. However, after a decade, C.C. admits, it's definitely possible that he's reformed (because after all, stranger things have happened in this world), and in that case...

She should have even more reason to envy Suzaku Kururugi.

––—∞—––

When the play ends, Rivalz flies up, cheering and applauding raucously - Suzaku applauds gently, a smile lighting up his face. He'd never thought Shirley was talented on this level - they'll be talking about this play for months, he knows, and he's hoping someone in high places was present to notice her performance, since his friend, without any real hobbies or interests, has finally found her niche.

On instinct, he looks around for Lelouch, but finds him nowhere. Common sense tells him the older is probably seated high up in the Faculty Box, schmoozing with his professor friends with C.C. at his side. He's always known they could not spend every waking moment together, but something within him still considers Lelouch his _equal, _though he's plainly not in every way. He exhales.

Rivalz babbles about Shirley's various performances in certain acts, over the thundering applause - Suzaku just nods along, unsure of what he's even saying. They exit the auditorium with a bit of difficulty, the frosty December air assaulting the Japanese's bare arms. It's strangely deserted out here, really, everyone else content to remain inside and hail the actors with applause.

"Wow," Rivalz's brow crunches, "It's cold as balls out here."

"That expression never made any sense to me," Suzaku says absentmindedly, looking up at the half-moon above his head. Its light washes his eyes mint-green. "When're we heading back to Nester?"

"Whenever Shirley gets out of costume and meets us out here," the blue haired boy enlightens, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "It's probably going to take a while considering the ass-load of makeup they put on everyone." His mouth tightens as a rush of freezing wind passes through the air. "You gonna say hi to Lelouch? I saw him."

"I don't know." The older generally leaves events like this as quickly as he can, and is probably halfway to his house by now. "If he's still around."

Rivalz plucks his phone out of his pocket and half a minute later Suzaku is privy to his conversation with Shirley, a storm of enthusiastic congratulations as well as requests that she hurry. The brunet takes a seat on the wrought-iron bench near the large sloping doors, hugging his arms around himself for some warmth. It really doesn't help.

Approximately ten minutes pass before Shirley appears, much less made-up than before and clutching a heavy-looking bag under her arm. "Only twelve more performances before the end of the season!" she announces, looking tired and wan. "I don't see why everybody just can't come watch it at once." Her eyes fall upon Suzaku. "Where's Lulu?"

He shrugs. "Probably gone already." And as much as that upsets him, he feels like he can give full attention to his friends, if only for one night. He owes them that much.

––—∞—––

The attention, if he had actually given it to them, would really have gone to waste. Because it wasn't even an hour after Rivalz, Suzaku and Shirley came through the door of the blue-haired boy's dorm that they all passed out – Rivalz on the couch, Suzaku curled up in the fetal position next to the coffee table, and Shirley in a fat lime-colored recliner. None of them really thought college very tiring until an opportunity for sleep came their way.

Suzaku wakes up first, rubbing at his eyes and wondering what exactly led him to pass out on the ground. He'd been texting Lelouch and talking to Rivalz about Mardi Gras (how that had come up he wasn't quite sure), Rivalz had been singing E.T., and then everything just sort of went blank. That's odd, because whenever they'd stay overnight at each others' houses, Rivalz had always been the one to stubbornly insist that everyone stay awake and keep him company. _Things change, _Suzaku thinks with a smile, taking in Rivalz's form, which impossibly takes up almost the whole couch. He should have been a contortionist.

He rubs at his jaw. It's sore. Maybe that's because he slept facedown.

"Suzaku?" Shirley's peering at him over her blanket, dazed. "When did _you _fall asleep?"

Suzaku shrugs. "A little while after you, I guess." Suddenly he realizes just how cold it is in here, the skin of his arms quickly becoming gooseflesh. He rubs at them absentmindedly. "I wonder what Rivalz has to eat."

"Probably a lot. I'm pretty sure he has his own aisle at the supermarket." Shirley yawns and turns over, and he does not hear from her again. The brunet pads into the kitchen, finding a cornucopia of cereal in the pantry. Giddy with childlike joy, he takes a long time choosing one to eat. All he and Clovis usually have is ramen, old pizza, and some kind of cake.

While he's pouring milk, his pocket buzzes.

**Fr: Lelouch  
Are you awake?**

Of course, the professor would be up at this hour. Suzaku blinks at the message then replies, _Yeah. For once._ Then proceeds to eat his cereal, crunching and wondering what Lelouch is up to right now, three dorm buildings away. Probably being heckled by C.C. and telling Sayoko what he expects of her for the day. While compulsively ironing already wrinkle-free shirts. Suzaku smiles crookedly.

**I think you should come and see me today. Considering it's Saturday.**

Having been under the impression that Lelouch was upset with him because of the way he'd reacted to the Paris thing, Suzaku texts back almost immediately._ Sure. I'll be over soon._ He's tempted to ask why Lelouch can't come pick him up, but he loathes the idea of fueling another argument; being a pedestrian for one more day won't kill him. Besides, when was the last time he exercised? With a growing horror, Suzaku realizes he can't quite remember.

Trying to shake that thought, he reaches into one of Rivalz's cluttered drawers and unearths a pad of sticky notes, quite possibly the same one from which the bluenette posts messages on his door. He writes a note (_Gone to Lelouch's, maybe we can hang out later tonight. Thanks for letting me stay, -Suzaku) _and sticks it to his best friend's forehead. He probably wouldn't notice it otherwise.

––—∞—––

Lelouch is writing another book. At least, he's lining up concepts for a new book. Usually, his plotlines burn out and his characters die as fetuses, so he hasn't much faith in the 300-or-so words he's written in a drab Pendragon University commonplace notebook. Something about a boy without a father who attempts to take the American theatre scene by storm. He isn't very fond of it, really, as it sounds like the plot of a badly filmed Indie picture.

He listens to the sound of Nunnally and Sayoko discussing basic Geometry, lines and planes and rays, and scratches out a phrase he doesn't like. Too misogynistic for such an optimistic character. Then again, Suzaku says some pretty foul things every once in a while too. He re-writes the line.

"Master Lelouch," Sayoko hedges, "do you know who originated Geometry? It's a question on Miss Nunnally's review."

"Euclid, I believe." He massages his temples and stares at the screen of his cell phone - Suzaku informed him that he'd be over soon. _Soon, _a word he had always despised - it never specified an exact time and made him anxious. "I think you should take a break, Sayoko. I'll help her instead."

She looks at him uncertainly for a moment, smiles with her small mouth, and leaves the room with a little bow. Lelouch watches her retreating back, thinking about Area 11 and the way what happened there changed the emotional makeup of the Japanese people. It makes him wonder just how bad things have gotten in that recently claimed territory, how bold his father has been in his conquering acts. "Do you think you know this pretty well, Nunnally?"

"Ahm." She reaches a hand out, searching for one of his as she does with Sayoko. "I think I can manage." Lelouch watches her outline the lesson on her Braille typewriter, seeming confident about what he always thought a bizarre form of math. His sister types with one hand, quite keen on holding his with the other - normally he would insist she use both, but it wasn't until now that Lelouch realized just how little time he's been spending with her lately.

Nunnally says, "Isn't Suzaku coming over today?"

His brow knits. "How did you know that?"

Since childhood, Nunnally has always tilted her head to the side when confused. "Well, you seem a bit worried; your hand is warm. Cornelia and I always agreed that you were cold-blooded."

"That doesn't surprise me."_ It would take one to know one._ However, he values Cornelia over Schneizel and, more recently, Maximillion. In fact, he can almost look back on her fondly - his domineering older sister, the one with the actual legal custody over Nunnally, who will always have the final say in who she is raised by. After she decided that Lelouch would be the best caretaker while she was in secondary school, the professor always felt a bit more warmth toward Cornelia. _He has always shown the most guidance,_ she had said,_ and the highest concern for her well-being._

Sayoko re-enters the room, carrying a tray of tea. Steam twirls toward the ceiling. "I was told that Master Suzaku was coming to see you, so I made four cups rather than three."

Lelouch smiles distantly; if C.C. is hiding somewhere in the room, she's definitely annoyed that no one thought to prepare her a drink. "Have tea with us, Sayoko."

"Ah - mm. Yes, I will." She sits, if a bit stiffly, and begins to serve the siblings. Nunnally continues on with her typewriter, the sound reminding Lelouch a bit of the reports Marianne would type for Charles (of her daily schedule, as the Emperor would request of each one of his wives). He would sit across from her at the table, asking questions about his first full sister who would soon be born. "Have you finished your work for the day?"

"I still have a few things to grade and sign." He stares at his briefcase in the doorway, wishing that the case was aware of his contempt. "I plan to finish it when Suzaku leaves."

"Is he not staying over?"

"I'm never sure."

They sit in silence for a little while, Lelouch looking through his phone, Nunnally typing, and Sayoko watching them faintly. She often feels a desire to mother the siblings, a desire she wouldn't dare act on. When she had first met Lelouch, he'd been an eighteen-year-old boy, struggling to care for Nunnally (then a toddler), always coming and going without much to say. Eventually he'd told her their story, and since then she had only felt more compelled to shelter them - but that need was overshadowed by her status as a Number. She was a maid, no more, no less. "I've taken your suit jackets to the dry cleaners'."

"Oh, excellent." Lelouch smiles at her in that way he always does, appreciative but wan. "I haven't had the time to."

A knock on the door alerts them to what is probably Suzaku's arrival - and sure enough, when Sayoko opens the door, he's apologizing. "Sorry I took so long - I ran out and got a few things - " and Lelouch sees that he's holding a bottle of wine and two white paper bags. "I figured you were hungry."

Lelouch blinks. "Somewhat." He watches Suzaku say 'no thank you' and smile kindly when Sayoko attempts to take his coat - in Japanese, of course. Watching the boy speak his native language has always fascinated him. "What've you brought?"

"Sandwiches." Suzaku toes off his shoes, smiling wryly. "I figured you wouldn't want it, but, you know. Hi, Nunnally."

"Hi, Suzaku-san!" she chirps. Sayoko's eyes crinkle with mirth. "I made you a paper crane."

Suzaku looks at Lelouch, a bit surprised, then back to his sister. "Uh - oh, y-yeah. You're getting good at them." He's very smiley today, but he only looks vulnerable to Lelouch. Vulnerable and just the slightest bit nervous, like he expects the Lamperouge siblings to kick him out of their humble abode at the drop of a hat. Lelouch figures it's because of the France argument. Watching his lover accept his sister's gift, he wonders if Suzaku worries about it on the same scale that he does - and his question is answered by the look Suzaku gives him when Nunnally has returned to her typewriter.

"Suzaku and I are going into my room," Lelouch informs the maid, as well as his sister, who gives him a questioning look. "We have some things to talk about."

The brunet looks at them both of them in turn. Nunnally pipes up, "You can say anything in front of me, I won't mind."

"Miss Nunnally." Sayoko reprimands, looking at Lelouch apologetically. He waves a hand and gestures for Suzaku to follow him, shutting the door of his tiny bedroom behind them.

A long, poignant moment passes in which Suzaku seems quite engrossed in the flooring. His hair is dark, slicked by precipitation (it's been snowing since before dawn); he pushes it out of his eyes and finally, finally looks at Lelouch. "I always envied you. For how you can sleep in private in your dorm and I can't."

"It's because I work here," the professor reminds him, a bit absentmindedly. "Now. What's the matter with you?"

Suzaku shakes his head at him, his mouth open. "Nothing, I just – I thought you were mad at me because of how I acted at the tournament."

"I already forgave you for it." He unzips Suzaku's sodden jacket and folds it on top of his dresser, watching the water leak onto the wood. Then he takes the bags of sandwiches and the bottle of wine and places them next to it. "Sit."

He does, Indian-style on the bed, with large, curious eyes. Looking a bit closer, he can tell Suzaku is shivering. "Lay across my lap." The boy gives him an odd look. "Just do it," he sighs, and Suzaku complies once more. "There we are."

"Uh, Lelouch?"

"Relax, Suzaku." He pushes the brunet's shirt up, smoothing his fingers over the exposed portion of Suzaku's lower back. His skin is cold. "Now, why did you think I would stay mad at you?"

Suzaku crosses his arms and rests his chin on them. "I – I don't know. I guess I just figured you got tired of me being paranoid."

"I hope you know I don't give up that easily."

A chuckle. "Right. I missed you last night."

"You're seeing me now," is the reply, seasoned with a hint of laughter. "Or isn't that enough for you?"

"It is. It's more than enough." Lelouch's fingers apply more pressure, the friction from the nails sending shivers up his spine. "But I blew Euphy off to see you. I don't think she was too happy about it." She'd asked him to see the opera with her, that a singer she liked was being featured. He'd told her honestly that he had plans with Lelouch.

"Nor should she have been. If she'd gotten closure by now," he pushes the rather annoying sweater up further, exposing strong shoulders for him to tickle, "I would be a bit worried."

Since he disagrees rather vehemently with this, Suzaku says nothing, just allows himself to sink deeper into relaxation. Lelouch watches, adulation in his violet eyes - for it surprises him even now how easily satisfied his lover is, even the lightest tickling putting him completely at ease. "When exactly are you supposed to leave for Paris?"

"The 6th." He pulls the shirt up over Suzaku's head; it lands somewhere near his bedside table. Feasting his eyes on the toned physique he's grown so fond of, Lelouch doesn't notice the odd look he's receiving. "You really should wear more revealing clothes, Suzaku." He strokes a single finger across his lower back, feeling the skin gather into gooseflesh, and sighs contentedly.

"I would but," Suzaku smiles wryly. "It's winter. So tell me again what you're doing in France."

"Well," there's a clinking sound and he supposes Lelouch moved a glass or something before the older sits back against the wall, pulling Suzaku with him for better access. "A bunch of dull sightseeing, for the most part. Like I said – I want to see what's changed."

A certain nervous swelling on the normally smooth tenor of the professor's voice clues Suzaku in that he's not been fully enlightened. "That's it?"

"That is." Lelouch's foot nudges playfully against his ankle. "Are you still under the impression that I have some dashing young Frenchman waiting for me?"

"No—it's." Suzaku exhales, feeling his own hot breath sail back up into his face, "Let's not get into that again. Take some time off for yourself, okay?"

"I may watch a musical or two," Lelouch allows, tipping his head back to rest against the watery-blue painted wall.

Then his mind falls again on Daniel's emails, and the proposition that should he so choose, the Professor Lelouch Lamperouge may very well become the head of the _Linguistique Ministère _as he dared to even dream of some years before. After this, he looks down again and watches his own hand that strokes at Suzaku's hair – and sighs, pale digits stilling in the auburn mess.

Suzaku cranes his neck to look at him, as if to ask why he stopped. The darker-haired male tuts and the boy lies down again.

"Are you cold?"

Suzaku nods, and Lelouch gets up to find the shirt he tossed off – but before this plan comes to fruition, he sees the painting on the wall (a rudimentary piece really, watercolor paint depicting the Juniper Stream in Valencia) disappear from view, and instead of falling onto the bed, he's dropped himself right on top of Suzaku.

"Why did you do that?" he asks, notes of annoyance creeping into a previously nonplussed voice.

"Do what?" A nail sticking up from a loose floorboard was the culprit, in all honesty, but any _real _deliberation on the crime, or what he would do to get back at Suzaku for it, seems to disintegrate into thin air as Lelouch finds himself faced with those probing green eyes, somehow managing to be painfully childlike and adult at the same time; and the perfect teeth, like a string of pearls.

(He adores him.)

"Still cold?"

"Nope," he lies, staring at the ceiling fan. _That _might have had something to do with it. Who leaves the fan on in the middle of December?"

As if this will provide him a suitable answer, Lelouch looks at the fan too. "It must have been Sayoko," he muses (for he's heard the young nursemaid speak volumes about how hot it can be in here, even in the winter months; why she hasn't moved somewhere south is beyond him). Inanely, he realizes how Suzaku's breath is making his chest jump between them. "Am I hurting you?" As if he could actually weigh enough to do such a thing. Suzaku shakes his head, eyelids slipping down without any haste.

"Sorry. I guess – since I didn't see you all day and all, I – " he smiles, as if such thoughts are beneath him, and extinguishes the train of thought right there, just exhaling and curling his arms around Lelouch's torso. The older's smile is somewhat crooked, winsome and undermined by that weary mist in his eyes. To end the impromptu staring contest that's begun, he closes his eyes and rests his chin against Suzaku's shoulder.

"Lelouch."

"Hm?"

"…what exactly are we doing?" Suzaku asks.

_"_Was that a complaint?" He moves away then, dark hair hanging in his eyes as he adjusts his rumpled gray shirt. Engaged in his self-righting, Lelouch fails to notice the adoring gaze upon him, Suzaku drinking in the delightfully annoying primping with the enthusiasm of a child watching his favorite television show. "I find it strange that you haven't jumped me yet, considering how attention-starved you're acting."

"It's not an act." Suzaku blinks and lies back, the downy pillow soothing against his aching neck (earlier today he'd spent quite a bit of time with his neck craned as he'd feigned an interest in academia for an hour, during which he wrote about half of a research paper and a few half-assed attempts at poetry). "Why do you think I kept calling you?"

_You called? _"My phone was on silent," he lies, (in fact C.C. had borrowed it for the hour; she had refused to leave the toilet, apparently in a heated game of Tetris) but informing Suzaku of this will lead to nothing prosperous. In a backward form of compensation, Lelouch presses his dry lips to Suzaku's jaw, watching his eyelids flutter just barely – but that's it, there's no guttural little throat-noise or questioning – just the bland green stare, and the slightest curve of his mouth.

"Are you upset that I didn't answer or is there some other relationship deficit I'm unaware of?"

Suzaku's smile changes; now there are teeth. Lelouch notes the redness that sprawls across the little bit of the boy's neck he can see. "Is there a purpose to this, or is it just because you love the sound of your own voice?"

The older declines a response, a long silence taking the reins and enveloping them both. Suzaku looks half-asleep and Lelouch looks much too awake, and a little confused. The former sighs, and cants his brown head to the side.

"What?" asks Lelouch, tilting his face down to inches away from Suzaku's. Suzaku looks careless.

"It's really creepy how I like you most when you're being a dick. I think that says a lot about me as a person," is the dry explanation, followed by Suzaku throwing his forearm over his face and dragging the back of his hand across his closed eyes. He can feel Lelouch's breath/laughter against his wrist.

"I think it just says you aren't idealistic," Lelouch's eyelashes flutter, "anymore," he corrects, remembering their discussion earlier this year pertaining to the meaning of love and tolerance. "Which I have mixed feelings about, since it's my fault."

"I can think for myself," Suzaku reminds him a bit stiffly, removing his arm and using it to prop himself up. Now he and Lelouch are sitting face-to-face. "Or haven't you noticed?" the masculine notes in Suzaku's voice, coupled with the contrasting smile that reminds him of… oh, what was his name? The one who never wanted to grow up – Peter Pan - send shivers down the professor's spine; shivers that do not go unnoticed by the young man who can think for himself.

"Yes," Lelouch says rather mindlessly, "I have noticed." The words are limp from his lips, without any real meaning behind them – but he likes to think that, when he pulls Suzaku down on top of him, that the brunet doesn't care for his words. Which in most situations would be quite untrue, but it isn't most situations that Suzaku's fumbling at a hand job, his head crooked in accordance with his smile.

His cock jumps to attention more quickly than normal; perhaps it's due to the long period of time that has elapsed since he and the boy were intimate, or perhaps it's due to the way these pants were sewn. In any case, it isn't long until Lelouch finds himself – well, lost for words, body suddenly broiling and crying out for release; or maybe that's him, clutching the navy fabric of Suzaku's shirt between his fingers and biting his lip, chest heaving in a way that makes him happy Suzaku is licking his neck rather than looking at him.

Though the licking is quite nice, as he can feel the Suzaku's heated breath against him, bated with anticipation and jittering when he speaks.

"I want you," he re-affirms, for probably the thousandth time, and Lelouch almost thinks he's going to see tears. But Suzaku isn't quite so idealistic anymore, and he just continues that licking and pumping, skin heating up as he drags Lelouch's pants down his hips.

It may sound strange, but occasionally when he sees Suzaku touch him, the older male feels slightly guilty. Not due to anything mentioned in previous chapters – but because, really, it's a very unfamiliar thing still, to be touched so intimately by one of his students. In the beginning, he saw Suzaku as nothing more than a piece of ass (he won't lie on that one) and had no trouble touching and groping him to his heart's content. Now, however, when he's gotten to know him so well, Lelouch is a bit ashamed of himself, even as he watches Suzaku kiss the tip of his cock and work the head in his mouth, with a lusty grin and half-mast eyes. "Su-Suzaku…"

"Lelouch," the brunet responds, his hand running admiringly across the older's belly. Then his tone lowers. "I wanna be inside you so bad…"

Lelouch's eyes nearly roll back in his head. See you later, guilt. "Just a second," he says airlessly, his desire nearly crushing him, then reaches down to fumble at Suzaku's zipper.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Okay. Now was not the proper moment for comedic timing. Lelouch grumbles something unintelligible. "Who is it?"

"Lelouch," answers Nunnally's voice, "Are you sleeping?" They look at each other, like two different-colored deer caught in the headlights – Suzaku scrambles to his feet, the tent in his pants proud and unyielding – Lelouch resists the urge to laugh at it, his effort assisted by the fact that Nunnally has a not-so-subtle way of intimidating him.

"No, ah." He pulls his boxers back up and pulls the covers over himself (honestly, it's like he doesn't know she can't see). "I mean. I was about to. Sleep."

Suzaku opens the door. "Hi, Nunnally," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Lelouch rolls his eyes, but he's smiling as well. "How's your outline going? Have you worked on your project?" A few days ago, Nunnally started some complicated-looking diagram on the planets; with Sayoko's help, it had become quite the spectacle, sitting proudly on the counters of Lelouch's home on Arbordale and his dormitory, respectively.

"Fine," she chirps, rolling forward. "Lelouch, I wanted to tell you – when you go to France, make sure you buy me a souvenir this time, okay?"

"Will a snow globe work?" he asks, warmly, but still rather exasperated – he's watching Suzaku, leaning against the doorjamb, erection straining against his jeans. The younger smiles apologetically. "Or maybe a photo book?"

Nunnally tilts her head to the side. "You know surprises are best!" she admonishes, batting him playfully on the shoulder. Suzaku agrees with a cheerful 'yeah, Lelouch, even _you _should know that'.

He glares at him.

"Don't you have tutoring now?" asks the professor, getting up off of his haunches. "I thought your project was due tomorrow."

"The _15th, _not the 5th," Nunnally corrects him; her smile doesn't waver. "But you know what _is _tomorrow – your birthday!"

What. The. Hell.

At his age, Lelouch has experienced many an odd happening, and neglected many peoples' honor to the point of forgetting their birthdays – but never himself; and as he gapes openly at Suzaku, it's plain that the boy thinks it's just as strange as he does.

"You didn't… _forget_ your birthday, did you, Lelouch?" his previously misty eyes twinkle; and now that he's come to sit next to him again, Lelouch notices that Suzaku's erection has also disappeared.

"No, I – it just slipped my mind at this_ very moment, _Suzaku – excuse me for focusing on more pressing matters."

"Pressing matters, you say?"

Lelouch rolls his eyes. "Yes Nunnally, you're right. We'll go out to dinner." Extravagant birthday celebrations have never really been his style, anyway – and having grown up within palace walls, Lelouch endured just a few too many.

Nunnally squeals unabashedly, her chestnut hair swaying as she rolls forward to grasp their hands. "Suzaku too?"

"Suzaku too," he's still looking at the brunet a bit coldly, though amusement flickers in violet eyes. Suzaku watches him, however, with adoration – like a child awed by even the smallest accomplishments of someone he admires. This, and his sister's grip on both their hands, induces a new feeling within him – something from one of those poorly scripted made-for-television movies, no doubt. He didn't think people could actually _feel _those things until now.

Eventually, Nunnally lets go.

"Anyway, I'm sorry for barging in. You two should get some sleep, all right?" a smile flits across his sister's lips and she turns around, rolling out of the room but leaving the door open in her wake.

"Well," says Suzaku once he's assured she's out of earshot, "That…was unexpected." He rubs at his forehead, sniffing a little. "Come to think of it, Lelouch, I am pretty tired.'

"Just a moment ago you 'wanted to be inside me so bad'," Lelouch reminds him softly, with a barbed smile.

"Yeah, but then I didn't know your birthday was tomorrow," the brunet sits on the bed, looking wan but pleased. Lelouch's gaze does little to dissuade him from this mood. "Hey, come on. Don't you want to save it for then?" While Lelouch was right about that horribly cliché thing he'd said just a few minutes ago, Suzaku has always had a bit of a mischievous streak – a streak that hadn't really seen the light of day until he met the professor before him.

Lelouch's frown intensifies. "Do you honestly think I would give up an opportunity to… oh, never mind."

This man and his rapidly shifting emotional states. Suzaku sighs. "Okay, fine." And sits on the edge of the older's bed, a lump back of his throat at the realization that he didn't buy Lelouch a present (the fact that he hadn't actually known when his birthday was is somehow irrelevant) and will inevitably face this tomorrow. Not that he can imagine Lelouch really throwing a fit, since he's really not a big fan of material things in the first place, but –

_Suzaku. Shut up._

It's Lelouch's voice that tells him that, but not that of the tangible Lelouch beside him – no, it's that pervasive head voice that has recently ruled every decision he makes. Worrying does nothing but make things worse ("and make you fat", according to Euphemia) so he eventually decides that it's best not to dwell on this. He's sure Lelouch will understand.

Hopefully. Lelouch surprises him sometimes.

Like, with the France thing.

Sigh.

The real Lelouch finally says something a long stretch of time later: "Do you want dinner?"

Suzaku lets his eyes wander to the forgotten sandwiches he brought over. "No, I – I was supposed to go for pizza with Rivalz later, but he had to do something with the band, so."

"Are they any good?"

"I don't know, I've never heard them. I'm not even completely sure they exist. Everyone's convinced he's making it up."

"That could be potentially problematic." Clearly, Lelouch is no longer listening as he's crossed the room to look through his briefcase. " Just let me sign these exemption forms first." His mailbox has been full of the lilac papers lately, most of them filled out by students he'd never dream of letting skip out on his exam. He's rather enjoyed writing terse little remarks on them, explaining why Annoying Student A would in fact have to sit through one miserable hour of multiple choice, high school level testing.

He wonders how Suzaku hasn't pegged him a sadist by now.

"Say," the brunet interjects, "Do I have to take your exam?"

Amusement flickers across Lelouch's face. "Yes, of course you do. You're nearly failing and there are no exceptions for that, you know."

Green eyes roll. "Right, I forgot. You like lording this over me."

"I don't. I was stating a fact. You are taking my exam, because it's my rule. However, there is a loophole the university rule book doesn't exactly mention."

"What's that?"

He exhales with a prim fraction of laughter, then pulls a piece of laminated paper from deep within the bowels of his briefcase. "Answer key."

––—∞—––

Nunnally is the one to choose the restaurant – and while that thought should have filled Suzaku with dread, he was surprisingly excited to find out what the younger Lamperouge had decided her brother would like most. It was not a surprise, however, that they wound up in the Quarter, incidentally in the exact same restaurant at which he and Lelouch had sat down on their very awkward first date.

The older notices this, too, smirking rather pronouncedly at him whenever they walk in. "Say, Suzaku –"

"I remember," he interjects, smiling from ear to ear.

Nunnally expresses her amusement at the conversation between Lelouch and the waiter (after he had gone, of course) informing them she'd always found it a funny language, and wondered why her brother didn't study something more practical, like Spanish. "It's the second most widely spoken language in the world."

"French," he informed her rather stolidly, "is the only language I could speak to Mother in that the others couldn't understand." _The others _being every one of Charles' other wives, as well as Schneizel and Max, both of whom delighted in eavesdropping on his conversations as boys. Not that they were really worth listening in on.

"Mother spoke French?" Suzaku notices that Nunnally and Lelouch wear almost the exact same impression when surprised. "I didn't know that."

"Yes, she did – quite well, in fact. She was better than I was… I remember once, after Carline was christened…"

Suzaku merely sits back and listens, truly interested, as this is one of the few small glimpses he ever seems to get into Lelouch's life at the palace. The professor is usually quite closed off in that department, unless of course it's Nunnally who's asking the questions. She never did see much of that lifestyle, having been born fifteen years Lelouch's junior. Of course, she still knows more about royalty than Suzaku in every right – they both exude old-world class, no matter how integrated they are to working society due to Lelouch's status as a self-made man.

"Wow," says the younger Lamperouge sibling at the end of the story. "She really was amazing." It occurs to Suzaku that Nunnally never got the chance to know Marianne due to her death – a death Suzaku still doesn't know very much about. He's thought about asking Lelouch about it more than once, but has never quite plucked up the courage. And that's probably a good thing – Lelouch doesn't seem all that keen on discussing it.

"She was." Lelouch nods once and takes rapt interest in his champagne. Suzaku looks down at the deep gold beverage as well, trying to catch his eye. But it doesn't happen. "Curious, isn't it, Suzaku."

Since this is the first time he's been addressed this evening, Suzaku stammers a bit. "What's that?"

"Everyone who loses a parent suffers, of course. The odd part is that it often leads them to things they never would have experienced otherwise. Good things." He raises an eyebrow. "For instance, if my mother had lived, I would never have worked a day in my life. But I never would have known the joy of earning my money. And in your case, were it not for what happened to Genbu, you would have definitely taken over his position some day – but you would not have made the friends you've grown so fond of."

"Or met you." Suzaku feels as if there's a slob of meat at the back of his throat. Damn Lelouch and his way with words. "I – I never would've met you or Nunnally."

"It's destiny," says the chestnut-haired ex-princess, her small lips pulling open in a smile. "Right, Lelouch?"

"That's right." He looks at Suzaku sidelong, a mischievous light in his eyes. Somehow, for the first time, it doesn't confuse the other at all, just reinforces this new and somewhat frightening happiness – frightening only because it's so fresh and real, and it takes a lot out of him to even be able to trust it. Lelouch has always pulled him from his comfort zone in one way or another.

He takes the hand Lelouch offers him, his eyes narrowing a little. To an outsider, it may look as if he and Lelouch are sharing some sort of private joke – but in reality, he's just going through all of it in his head. How they met, all those emotions, and what – well, what _destiny _had planned for him all this time. Most of the bad things in his life seem almost _justified _now, a little bit less horrible, because of the fact that they each played a part in bringing him to this man across from him.

"Stop giving me that look." Lelouch's eyelids flicker and he smiles. "You look like a crazed murderer about to strike."

"That's not what I was going for at all!"

"Maybe not. But I've found that both murderers – and dedicated lovers – are very passionate people. You're just lucky I can tell the difference." The older winks and he seems almost too real, the dream incarnated.

Suzaku feels overwhelmed.

(These are the good times.)

"Happy birthday, Lelouch."

––—∞—––

"So, you made sure she's asleep?"

"There isn't much to make sure of." Lelouch opens a new email he just received. "Nunnally generally goes to bed pretty early. It's one of my favorite traits of hers." Apparently not finding his emails interesting anymore, the older shuts his laptop and turns his gaze to Suzaku, who's still standing in the doorway. He smiles and the boy does, too, after a moment, his eyes reflecting impatience. "Come now, Suzaku. I said we could _celebrate _after you shower."

"Do I smell bad or something?" Suzaku's nose crinkles.

"No. I just – I have papers to grade." It's the truth; for a moment, his eyes flicker to the rather large stack of untouched papers on his bedside table. "I never seem to get anything done anymore." Trying to keep the notes of irritation out of his voice, Lelouch gives Suzaku a more enthusiastic smile this time around and jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom – and Suzaku complies, breezing past him looking a bit miffed. He must really want to get his rocks off tonight – which makes sense, as Lelouch _does _leave for Paris tomorrow and Suzaku will have his hand for company until his return. Lelouch wonders why that thought tickles him so much as he puts on his glasses and starts grading.

He hears the shower start up, but Suzaku has neglected to shut the bathroom door. He rolls his eyes and gets up to shut the door – only to be faced with the image of Suzaku, pant legs rolled up, sitting on his bathtub with his leg cocked out and slathered in shaving cream.

"What the devil do you think you're doing?" he asks. Suzaku looks at him in the corner of his eye.

"Shaving. Is it a crime." It isn't a question, really, more of a retort, and when the brunet starts the act itself, Lelouch feels his blood start to boil for reasons unknown. "I don't do it in the shower because the light is bad. I can't usually see what I'm doing."

"I see." Lelouch turns to look at himself in the mirror. Lelouch Lamperouge: tired, wan, and now featuring irritation. "Is this because I didn't want to fuck you the second we walked in the door? Is that it?"

He and Suzaku are both quiet – because they're both just a _tad _surprised at the brazen manner in which the older male had spoken. That cloud-nine feeling they'd both floated on just minutes before has vanished.

Then Suzaku replies: "You know why I've been upset with you. I was fine all night until you started talking about France in the car."

Lelouch palms his forehead, sucking in a breath. He lets his hand drop. "First off: your story about shaving was a stupid way of getting my attention, because I know you don't shave your legs. Second of all, I don't have to skate around the subject of Paris just because it upsets you."

"Don't you?"

"Give me one good reason why I should."

Suzaku turns off the shower and wipes the shaving cream off his legs, staring at the rather strange pattern of hair he left behind. Lelouch was right about one thing: it was a stupid way to get his attention. _Shaving. _The scallops he'd eaten at the restaurant must've been undercooked. "Okay, look. I'm sorry. I overreacted. This – I just don't want you to leave."

"So you're giving up? Just like that?" Lelouch shakes his head. "You always do that, Suzaku. Relenting. Letting everyone else win."

"No, sometimes I really am wrong." Suzaku stares at his feet, trying to telepathically stave off Lelouch's desire to argue with him. Since Lelouch is not a telepath and most likely wouldn't listen even if he were one, he counters:

"Or so you let yourself think. Maybe I_ should've_ limited the France-talk around you. Maybe I'm the selfish one. Did you ever think of that?"

(These are the bad times.)

Suzaku says nothing, just breathes softly and places a hand over his eyes. "I don't want to argue with you on your birthday. It's our last night together for a week. Let's – let's try and get along." The sex he'd so been looking forward to seems impossible now, only applicable in a universe in which Lelouch is less argumentative. Which he was, some months ago – before he'd started _caring. _Suzaku sort of misses it sometimes, Lelouch just wanting him for sex. Or at least he misses it when he's horny.

Miraculously, mercifully, the older just shuts up, walks back into the bedroom without another word. Suzaku doesn't follow just yet – he brushes his teeth and wipes his face with a cold towel, trying to purge the words from his mind:

(_you always do that, Suzaku – relenting, letting everyone else win.)_

–and formulating ways patch things up with Lelouch before he leaves to go abroad tomorrow.

Lelouch remains behind in the bedroom, playing the events back over in his head. Suzaku had given up and apologized so quickly, just to gain favor with him and make everything okay again. He always did that and quite frankly, it infuriated Lelouch – though he was sure Suzaku spent his whole life licking others' boots to make up for what he did as a boy, he'd thought that the younger would at the very least defend himself when it came to relationships he took seriously.

He finds it ridiculous that this pushover-behavior is really that well engrained, but then, who is he to talk. Because his own defining flaw (_I don't think I can love anyone and I don't care enough to try) _is far worse in retrospect. He also reminds himself, mentally, of how much younger Suzaku is, and how in this situation, arguments are nothing unusual. He hears the shower turn on.

Sitting on his bed, Lelouch tries to read one of the thick poetry volumes he picked up at the bookstore a few days ago, though he fails to lose himself in it, really, mind focused only on the boy in the next room, a buzzing, over-stimulated sort of feeling overtaking him. He stares at the book but doesn't really read it – the words, normally so gritty and powerful, hold nothing for him in the face of this anxiety.

Only Suzaku could make him resent books.

"Hey." He smells shaving cream on Suzaku when he sits down on the bed, rubbing a towel across his sopping head. Their eyes meet sidelong. "I – I wanted to say I'm sorry. You really want to go to France and I got mad at you for it. I was wrong."

Lelouch looks at him for a while. "You have conditioner in your ear."

Suzaku murmurs a soft 'oh' and wipes it out with the corner of the towel. He smiles boyishly. "That always happens."

Something tugs at Lelouch's heartstrings when he sees that expression on Suzaku's face. Everything else aside, he's always envied him for being able to stay positive when others can't. "I forgive you," he sighs, focusing on a smudge on his armoire mirror with some difficulty. After a second he looks back at the other, whose posture seems to have relaxed a bit, and Lelouch's lips twitch a little, an intermittent smile, and Suzaku chuckles.

"Don't be so…" He stops and moves closer to Lelouch, a flare of fear edging through his chest when he wraps an arm around his chest. But Lelouch lets him, in fact he dips his head back against the headboard, against Suzaku's shoulder, and closes his eyes.

Suzaku's cheek rests against Lelouch's; he can smell his breath, feel the tickle of hair against his ear. Suddenly he feels swollen with bliss, saturated in it – he hasn't been this close to Lelouch in days, which hadn't been intentional on either of their parts, but was merely an effect of circumstance. It's true – separation, only a little bit of it, really does make the heart fonder. If that's the expression. A smile slips across Suzaku's lips.

Lelouch's eyes open. He blinks. "You don't look creepy right now or anything." His voice is mild, a pleasant vibration against Suzaku's temple. The brunet's eyes fall upon the book in his lap. "It's a book of Frost's poems. Not a complete collection, but I wasn't feeling particularly rich when I bought it… you would think book stores would understand." His eyes are dark, thoughtful; sometimes Suzaku wishes he could read minds. No doubt, it would probably be all metaphors and foreign phrases inside Lelouch's head, but it would still entertain him greatly.

"I should read more," the younger muses, letting out a long breath and tilting his head to rest against the top of Lelouch's. "Who knows, maybe I could get as good at arguing as you."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Lelouch licks his lips thoughtlessly, placing the book on the bedside table. He moves his hand up to switch off the lamp.

"…are we going to sleep?"

He flicks the lamp back on; Suzaku is suddenly wide-awake, eyes lurid. For a moment, he and Lelouch look at each other. "I – I mean. You said we could celebrate after I showered."

_Celebrate_ evokes images of himself being pounded into the mattress beneath them, chest heaving and hips jerking, Suzaku murmuring filthy things in his ear.

It isn't an unpleasant idea, really, save for the physical activity involved, but his day began at 5:30 in the morning – not to mention he had to run around Saffron all day searching for a folder full of transcripts he'd lost, followed by an exasperating faculty meeting, and of course, the dinner at which they _celebrated _the anniversary of his birth in a very different way than is being proposed.

"I really need to get some sleep, Suzaku."

The Japanese teen's somewhat apprehensive look dribbles into a mask of disdain.

"But it's your birthday and I – " he stops for a moment, thinks about it. "I _really _want to…and we don't necessarily have to do _it, _just, there are other ways that I could – well, how do I say it –" he looks away from Lelouch, at the lamp, as if it will supply him with the answer. "You know what I mean."

Lelouch blinks and purses his lips, taking up eye contact with Suzaku and holding it. It's true that he has been deprived lately, to the point of fantasizing at work, chewing on his pen while watching Suzaku in the sea of students opposite him. (Suzaku remained so adorably oblivious, chatting with his friends and doodling on his university-issue notebook.)

Besides, the sadist in him doesn't exactly hate it when Suzaku is needy like this. "What did you have in mind?"

The brunet smiles a bit vaguely. "You're the birthday boy." But he angles himself away from Lelouch, fingers going to work on the drawstring of his own pants. Lelouch watches, soon realizing Suzaku is having trouble with the knot. "J-Just a second." The boy's face grows hot; Lelouch finds his embarrassment amusing. "Guh." He drops his hands and looks at the other with an exasperated smile, shrugging. "The fates really don't want us to fuck tonight, Lelouch."

Lelouch can't really deny it; hearing Suzaku talk like that is just the tiniest bit hot. "Come over here." Suzaku does, straddling Lelouch and shaking all the while. "Nervous?"

"A little." Suzaku looks at him bemusedly. "Always a little - mm." He shares that last word with Lelouch's mouth when their lips meet, and then it is extinguished into a pitiful puff of air. Between kisses: "So—you—were just—testing me?"

"About what." Lelouch licks along the shell of Suzaku's ear, sucks on the lobe.

"F-France talk. When you said – earlier." That train of thought ends when he feels hands sliding down his back, up under his shirt, skimming and feeling all over him. It isn't even _sexual, _really, but the driving force behind the touching – it's demanding, curious, like this is the first time Lelouch has ever touched him. Maybe he's just imagining that, but it heats things up all the same, a fact he realizes from the rapid rush of blood to his cock.

"I've barely done anything, Suzaku." Though the brunet has his face pressed against the headboard, he can tell Lelouch is smirking. "If you keep on like this I might just have to reconsider what I said."

Suzaku bites his lip, "About what?"

"About fucking you." Those hands move lower to cup his ass, rubbing and kneading the flesh in a way that makes Suzaku's head spin. "These pants of yours." The touching stops for a moment; Suzaku mourns Lelouch's hands immediately, hears him rustling around and opening the drawer.

"You're cutting them off?" he's slightly embarrassed to discover just how reckless he sounds, that harsh whisper he always uses when talking to Lelouch in these situations. In the beginning, it had just been an effect of Nunnally's presence, but now, it's almost characteristic.

A mischievous smile. "Think of it as… freeing." Lelouch snips at the drawstring and Suzaku's pants are no longer a prison chamber; they're forgotten quickly and land somewhere near his shoes. "Better?"

"Yes, just – just stop _teasing _me." The younger pushes his clothed cock against Lelouch's, satisfied to find he's not the only one who's hard. He grinds against him. "Come on, Lelouch, just –"

When their cocks lined up, Lelouch had foreseen himself losing control from there forward. Surprisingly, he still has the semblance to milk this for all it's worth. "You said _I _was the birthday boy." He's a little short of breath, watching Suzaku like that, sweating and panting, grinding _harder _and _harder _– "So I think it's only fair if I – make some suggestions of my own."

"L-like what." Suzaku swallows wetly and resumes his movements, breathing more labored, hair sticking to his forehead.

"Well." Lelouch pushes forward, motioning for Suzaku to get off, and he does, albeit hesitantly, cock bobbing between his legs. His boxers are stained. "Take your underwear off." He feels a twang in his side, watching him follow the command so eagerly, tossing the boxers off to wherever. "And your shirt." He does.

"Uh." Suzaku chuckles nervously. "Are you going to say what I think you are?" It's always a sight, the younger speaking conversationally while naked, so hard it simply _must _hurt, and that _hair – _oh, it's a sight Lelouch rather enjoys.

He inhales in mock-contemplation. "Touch yourself."

Green eyes blink owlishly. "Myself."

"Yourself." Lelouch shifts in his spot, clearly brimming with anticipation.

It's an… odd request, one he's not all that familiar with. Then again, hasn't Lelouch done it to him dozens of times? It's not like they've just met or anything. That thought aside, he still can't help the way his cheeks burn as their searing eye contact draws on. Maybe Lelouch will just give up on this and touch him on his own.

The thing about 'maybe' is that there's roughly a fifty percent margin of failure involved. A margin that took hold in this situation. Violet eyes implore him, seem to say _please do this for me, Suzaku _and he can't help but wonder what it would be like, watching Lelouch's reaction while he stroked himself, took long pulls on his aching cock – "Ah." Is Lelouch's very _first _reaction whenever he wraps a hand around the base of his erection, letting his eyes slip closed. "No, keep them open."

He does, looking off to the side as he starts to stroke, slowly, agonizingly (or so Lelouch thinks), dragging his curled fingers up the shaft with a languor that makes a question burn at the back of Lelouch's throat. "Why would you, of all people, be ashamed of something like this?"

"It's not that I'm ashamed." Suzaku stretches one leg out for the benefit of his cock, growing fat with arousal. He stops for a moment, looking at Lelouch. "I'm just not all that clear on why you want me to do this."

"I think it's obvious…" Lelouch nods at him, and the brunet takes himself in hand again, resuming with that annoyingly slow rhythm. "I like watching you."

"Watching me." Suzaku closes his eyes. "Does it – does it get you off, watching me."

The proverbial light bulb flicks on in Lelouch's brain. "I do it all the time. Especially when I see you walking around campus, and you don't see me. I imagine it, pushing you on your knees and fucking you in front of everyone."

Suzaku doesn't say anything this time, but his hand has sped up. Lelouch smiles.

"Would you like that, Suzaku? Getting it from behind in front of your classmates – all of them knowing you're mine?"

"D-don't stop." The other breathes greedily, jerking himself off with abandon now, cock-leaking precum. "Talk to me."

It takes him a moment to continue (he just can't remove his focus from the sight before him, all sweat and arousal and _Suzaku letting go)._ "Or maybe I could be the one to take it." He really, _really _can't believe he's talking like this at all – honestly, it's so juvenile and most of it isn't even all that well thought-out – but Suzaku likes it, if the way he's cursing under his breath is any indication. Lelouch himself feels his heartbeat drown out almost everything else, everything but Suzaku's noises and every pulse of his confined cock.

Suzaku grunts. "Jesus Christ." He licks his lips and keeps going, eyes trained on Lelouch, dying to hear more. The birthday boy smiles and approaches him, kissing him deeply then continuing:

"Up against the door of my office – and you want to take it all off, but I won't let you, we just slip our pants down and…"

"Shit- Lelouch!—" he's really into it now, fondling his sac with the unoccupied hand, head thrown back. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

He considers indulging Suzaku, but kisses him instead. It's a crushing kiss, Suzaku groaning openly into his mouth as he continues to jack his cock, now aided by Lelouch's guiding hand, their tongues sliding and flicking against one another. His stomach tightens, chest a quivering bowl of Jell-O as he sinks on top of Suzaku, sucking on his tongue. Down below, he can feel the Japanese rubbing against him, whining at the feeling of fabric against his bare skin. It's too hot – suffocatingly hot.

The noise of the zipper goes unheard, drowned out by the sound of moaning – not Suzaku's, but his own as he moves his hips around in a circular motion, hot flesh rubbing tantalizingly against his own, slicked by precum and spurred on by the way Suzaku claws into his shoulders, then aligns his hands on his lower back (as if this already maddening friction isn't enough for him; that thought alone nearly drives Lelouch over the edge).

"Oh—" Suzaku eventually calls out, thrusting back more quickly. "Lelou-_ohhhh."_

That does it. Lelouch comes as well, muffling his groan into his now soiled comforter. One of his hands shoots out to grab at a sheet, or – or something to hold onto.

(He finds Suzaku's hand instead.)

Exhaustion soaks through his bones and he regains his composure long after Suzaku, who seems content to hold him there, cradling Lelouch's head against his chest. Usually, after this, one of them has a snide remark or, far less occasionally, sweet nothings to say – but neither can think of anything worth ending the blessed, contented silence. The professor tilts his chin upward, toward the ceiling, and feels Suzaku's thumb brush his forehead.

Somewhere in the haze, they get their wits about them. The brunet gets under the covers and Lelouch manages to get rid of the rest of his clothes, pressing himself close to Suzaku's warm body and attempting to bring forth sleep.

Then: "So… I think… a good birthday?" the younger finally asks, and Lelouch is somewhat satisfied to realize his voice is dead. At last the exertions of sex seem to effect Mr. Universe.

"I think the same," he replies. "Do you remember when I said I was tired?"

"Yeah. Then you… then you proved yourself wrong."

"Hush."

Thankfully, he does. Sleep comes not long after, sinking over them both about the same time. Lelouch sleeps deeply but does not dream.

**4:53 AM**

One eye opens. "Suzaku."

_Yawn. _"What?"

"I'm sorry to wake you, but you just kicked me in the testicles."

"…sorry." He rolls over and falls back asleep.

The bastard.

**5:03 AM**

"We have to wake up in an hour."

"Thank you for reminding me. The alarm clock will do it again. _In an hour."_

"You woke _me _up too. Unless you forgot."

"Don't get flippant with me right now. You kicked me in a very sensitive place."

"I was sleeping."

**5:58 AM**

"Do you want me to just disable the alarm?"

A sudden ruffle of fabric; there is a rush of cold air. "For god's sake, Suzaku."

"I just want you to be on time!"

Lelouch hits the wrong button and the alarm goes off. Screeching at full volume. He stabs it a few more times and it goes quiet.

Suzaku attempts to cuddle him when he gets back into bed. "Oh, come on. You aren't going to see me for a week."

Lelouch acts like that is what convinced him. Suzaku doesn't know he was going to let him do it anyway.

––—∞—––

Pendragon International Airport is a large, sprawling building made mostly of modern glass and steel fixtures; Suzaku sees himself in nearly every surface, a fact that makes him aware of just how sullen he really appears. Lelouch walks alongside him, long arm extended to pull a leather suitcase to roll along the glossy floor, his expression a moue of inattention. The younger is sure Lelouch is absorbed in thoughts of the lovely city and affluent people that await him; and while something inside him swells with happiness at his lover's excitement, a much more substantial part of him hates Lelouch for leaving.

"I said I'd call you, you know," says the aforementioned professor, approaching the Air France counter.

"You won't have service out of the country," Suzaku reminds him almost impatiently - half-hoping he's right, and that he won't have to hear the older's drawling voice enlightening him on all of his Parisian adventures. He's made a good deal of plans with Rivalz and Shirley this week, deciding that the time has finally come to pay them real attention.

Green eyes are vacant as he watches Lelouch book his first class seat and place his suitcase in the bag check -_he's really leaving, is he?_ Oh, the torment.

Suzaku shakes his head, forehead rumpling a bit. Lelouch isn't _moving_ to France, so there's no reason to act like some abandoned child. No reason to be wringing his hands within the cavern of the front pocket of the gray sweatshirt he wears, and no reason to be walking quite so close to Lelouch. "So you'll be back... next Wednesday?"

Lelouch nods, lightly taking a seat on a dark wooded bench and crossing his legs. His smile is nothing more than a jerk of an eyebrow, but it's a smile nonetheless. "What're you going to be doing while I'm gone?"

"...I'll be in class for the last day... then I'll hang out for a few, and maybe I'll go see my grandma." His mind drifts to the image of the elderly woman, olive-eyed and gentle, and that idea presses itself with more insistence upon him - because since he started at University he's only called her a handful of times, the conversations short and painfully uninformative.

The older nods, soft smile remaining as he looks down at the ground. Inside, however, he is pensive; again wondering exactly what he is doing, flying out to France on a moment's notice to lobby for a job he never thought he'd even be qualified for - that is until the recommendations and job began pouring in, and he took to keeping folders, folders he's got in his suitcase to present to Dean Etienne should his own personal charm falter. The Lelouch the reader met some months ago would have dropped everything and left without a hitch, kissing Pendragon University a well-deserved goodbye.

However, the Lelouch the reader met a few months ago did not know Suzaku.

"I'm going to miss you," he says, something cloying in his throat as a few different occasions – most specifically last night – run through his head. Something flickers in Suzaku's eyes and his head juts forward, close enough for a kiss -

Only to land on Lelouch's shoulder as his arms close around him in an embrace.

It gets quiet.

"You smell good," the boy exhales, and they both laugh a bit breathlessly.

"Does that mean you'll miss me too?" asks the professor, nearly bumping noses with Suzaku when he looks up. Suzaku's eyes narrow as if to tell him _it goes without saying_ and they break apart, Suzaku a bit taffy-stuck in the mouth and unable to formulate an answer. "I should hope you will." He stands, picking at his plane ticket in the pocket of his slacks, and exhales silently.

Suzaku is overrun by fantasies of stowing away on the plane, perhaps contorting himself to fit within Lelouch's suitcase. "Do you have your laptop with you? We can email."

"Indeed we can." Lelouch takes in the boyish face and rumpled hair. "Did you just get out of the shower?"

The brunet touches damp tufts absentmindedly. "I got in when you were on the phone with the airline. Then I sat and talked to Nunnally. Sayoko's going to be there the whole time, right?"

"Sayoko and C.C.," the older assures him, adjusting his black taffeta collar and tilting his head to the side. "Don't worry about her. She'll be fine."

But will Suzaku be?

That was a little melodramatic. Suzaku's sure he'll find things to do in Lelouch's absence. Like, help Euphy set up her apartment like he promised he would. Or listen to Rivalz's band (if they weren't in fact fictional) play at the theater. Or relive memories of Lelouch until he comes back.

Melodramatic again.

"Listen, I…" Suzaku hates these emotional scenes, despite the fact that most of them are his own fault. He wishes he had Lelouch's finesse in social situations. "Can you level with me here? Can we say goodbye without me having a coronary?"

"That's all in your head, you know." Lelouch places a hand on his shoulder, a gesture both friendly and confusing. Like he's saying _there, there. _"I'll be home soon. Calm yourself." His eyes linger on Suzaku's for a long while, and then, unable to help himself, he lays a kiss on the boy's cheek.

Suzaku's eyes can't quite settle on a single part of Lelouch. "I'm just going to turn around, okay? And you can go. I'll turn around."

Lelouch waves with a slow smile, and then Suzaku is true to his word, making a 180 and looking at the stack of travel brochures filling a mounted board on the wall. He can fly to Japan for a very low rate, considering the large amount of donations they've received from the recent natural disasters and…  
_  
(Regardless of good or bad times, I don't want to see you leave.)_

He's gone. The plane is in the sky. Suzaku watches it fly away.

––—∞—-–

His maternal grandmother is a short woman who resembles his cousin Kaguya more than him - however her black hair is peppered gray, pulled back off her face when she answers the door.

"_I didn't expect you home so early in the year,"_ she says softly, and in Japanese, taking the rather heavy duffle bag from her grandson. He looks well, a bit wan, but she was always tired during her years at university as well. "_How have you been?"_

_"Fine."_ They hug, a short and prompt gesture. "_I'm away on holiday break. We go back on the third."_ He can tell she's been in the kitchen quite a bit today, the aroma of her cooking warming his winter-chilled chest and making him salivate just a bit. Suzaku comes in, shutting the door behind him, and Maneha steels him on each side with her arms.

"_Let me have a look at you," _she says, a bit demandingly, sharp green eyes flickering up and down his form. "_Your muscles have faded away."_

_"Ah, I know." _Suzaku smiles good-naturedly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "_I've been really busy with schoolwork."_ Schoolwork, thy name is Lelouch. "_Where did you get that apron from?"_

So they shift into small talk, moving into the kitchen (his gait an amble, hers a bit shuffling). On his way, Suzaku's eyes take in the familiar photographs on the walls: he and his mother when he was a toddler and one of her alone, around sixteen or seventeen. He had almost forgotten how similar they looked.

Maneha begins making tea, and he watches her distantly, floored by how strained each movement seems. Of course, she is in her mid-seventies now, but Suzaku has always thought her to be in good health for that age. They speak about his classes, and he tells her his grades are "okay" (a muscle jumping precariously in his jaw); that the next break is in April, for spring, and he'll be returning home for that. She chuckles pleasantly when he tells her about Clovis's antics ("_I once knew a young man like that") _and everything is fine until she mentions Euphemia.

Of course it's only a cursory how-is-she question, but as soon as she sees Suzaku's throat tremble that way - "_Did something happen?"_

Maneha Sumeragi and her tiny colonial house seem a world away from the events at Pendragon University, but in this moment Suzaku realizes that the two universes mesh together much too quickly. "_We broke up in September,"_ he informs her finally, his fingertips heating as he thumbs the cup of tea she put before him. At her confused expression, Suzaku continues, "_It was... so hard to stay together when we were both so busy. We never had time to do anything."_ Of course, this is barely even twenty percent of the reason they split, but he doesn't think Maneha is quite ready to hear the rest. In fact, he doubts he'll ever tell her. "_But we're still friends. She visits me a lot."_

"_You always were very... noble,"_ his grandmother says faintly, obviously still taking in the news. "_You handled it well."_

In his mind, Suzaku sees himself and Lelouch: at the crosswalk when they first kissed, the Professor's wiling violets gleaming in the light of the setting sun. ("_When can I see you again?") _he'd asked, desirously, the sentence a pounding and insistent mantra in Suzaku's mind as he stares at his grandmother, who is oblivious and busy with dishes now. Twines of guilt still snare his gut as he remembers having sex with Euphemia just hours later, thoughts consumed not by her, but by the man next door. "_I'm going to go to my room for a while,"_ he tells Maneha, who murmurs an okay.

Sometimes Suzaku hates himself for having a conscience. Why can't he just let it go? He's not keeping it from her anymore and she's forgiven him doubly (or so she said); she makes a point of spending time with him just as a close friend should, and outwardly doesn't seem to harbor any bitterness. Hell, he's even helping her move into her new apartment tomorrow! _What's your deal? _Rivalz's voice seems to ask in his head.

Outside, the rain is a fine-smelling mist on the poplars and fir trees beyond the ivy-infested back wall of his grandmother's house. It helps lull Suzaku back into a state of calm, drain away that cloying feeling in his chest and allow him to relax a bit. After a while, he opens his laptop case and unearths the large black mobile computer; of course he isn't entirely sure why he's doing this as Lelouch is probably busy and in all likelihood won't email him until a few days into his trip, but as the reader has learned, Suzaku isn't really one for logical decisions. However, an extremely pleasant surprise awaits him in the form of a new inbox message from Lelouch.

_I haven't been to Paris for a few years, and it seems things have much improved in the way of hotel sanitary workers since then. The woman who cleans my suite hasn't yet stolen any of my things, for one. But I digress (that is unless you've already clicked the 'back' button, which I wouldn't blame you for since I started this off complaining). Anyway, I've been reunited with an old friend of mine, Daniel Farceur. After the onslaught of small talk, we came upon the subject of relationships. Daniel found it charming, he said, that I'm with a _Japonais_, and a young one at that. I'm not entirely sure why I told you this, perhaps it was because someone out there finds us charming. I certainly thought it was an excellent change of pace…_

_How has your day been? I hope you haven't forgotten your toothbrush or something like that. Now you're probably sitting at your keyboard, annoyed with me – for how could you possibly forget your toothbrush, moreover, how could I possibly think you're that stupid? In truth, I forgot my own toothbrush and had to fumble around with conversion rates to buy a new one when I landed in France, so it is an easy thing to do. Unsurprisingly, I have turned the limelight back onto myself for the second time._

_Tell me how your day was, and to mix things up, tell me how you would have liked it to be, and what you plan to do tomorrow._

The date of receipt on the email was 3:25 PM, about an hour after Lelouch landed in France. The thought manifests itself in a lazy smile curling across his lips and, with the smell of vanilla on his mind, Suzaku types out a reply.

––—∞—––

A few things are obvious.

The first: Paris's lack of places to sit on one's lonesome, to read, or maybe reflect quietly.

The second: a fly, buzzing maddeningly and bumping with pronounced retardation around the windowsill of Lelouch's suite.

The third: how little he's thought of Suzaku.

It was something he realized gradually, beginning when the plane had first touched down in France. Daniel had greeted him enthusiastically, chattering about their planned engagements in his characteristically loud way. His mind, immediately, was devoid of the younger, and had only regained consciousness of his existence when he'd gotten to his suite that night, and lain in bed alone. _Then, _and only then, he'd remembered Suzaku, dazed and disoriented by how quickly he'd let himself forget.

Then the pain had come.

After the first few days, however, the idea of avoiding him, mentally at least, didn't seem quite so deplorable anymore. Suzaku was probably spending time with his colorfully haired friends, laughing and reminiscing about times past, his pre-Lamperougian life, without a care in the world. He grew increasingly fond of the notion, romanticizing it even to Suzaku spending generous amounts of time with Euphemia, he himself forgetting about Lelouch in kind for a few days, pursuing things he wants.

But this poses a question: What _does _Suzaku want, other than him?

Having dabbled a bit in old habits since he returned to Paris, (and due to a bit of heckling from Daniel) Lelouch found himself sucking down cigarettes with new hunger; he does the same now, foot propped up on a groaning three-hundred year old heater, watching the nicotine-clouds twine around the room.

He'd thought he'd be feeling some phantom limb syndrome, like most people who have gone abroad and separated from their lovers – all he feels, however, even in this tiny acrid smelling room, is _free._

It bothers him like nothing else.

Earlier this afternoon, he'd tapped out a sarcastic and pseudo-clever email to Suzaku, talking about a toothbrush and inquiring about his day. The task had seemed annoying, obligatory, like one of the emails he will often write to a student requesting they resend a term paper they formatted wrong. After realizing this, Lelouch had taken a bath in the claw-foot tub one room over, smoking once more, and filing through his memories with the boy three countries west. He searched for some heart-warming or amusing moment, and found many, but none seemed to sustain him for very long.

Since, Lelouch has made it clear that he will push Suzaku to the back of his mind beyond what is impossible, like the emails, and enjoy Paris for all it is worth. Maybe, Suzaku feels the same, regarding their severance with the same cold satisfaction.

His guilt monster hopes so anyway.

––—∞—––

The next day, Suzaku takes a taxicab to the front of a pale-blue high-rise apartment building on Riesman Street, where Euphemia has signed a lease on a one-room unit. His text reads _Apartment 6A,_and after climbing one creaking stair after another, he finds himself knocking on the door.

She answers, wearing a worn old apron and her hair piled up high on her head. "You came! Come on in, we have a lot of work to do."

The room smells sweet, somewhat ashen as old places tend to – there are boxes everywhere, labeled in a looping scrawl he recognized as Mrs. Vandrein's. "…you're right about that."

_Meow. Meow._

"Uh—" he looks around. "Did you get a cat?"

Euphy pokes her head back through the doorway – she'd gone into the tiny bedroom for something. "My mother thought it was a good idea." As if on cue, a dark-gray cat winds around her ankles, rubbing his head against them affectionately.

Suzaku gasps. "Arthur!"

The pink-haired girl looks at him, confused. "His name's Liam."

"No, I mean – Rivalz and I picked up this cat from the street in September." He considers getting to his knees and petting the cat, but remembers just how –_fond _the animal is of him, in his backward way. "That's weird; you adopted the exact same one."

"Must be fate." Euphy disappears, shutting the bedroom door behind her. "I'm changing, and then we can get right to work, all right?"

"…sure." Suzaku sits on the Scotch guarded sofa, feeling the plastic creak beneath him. This really is a good place for a college student to live – cozy, big windows, convenient to a lot of grocery stores and libraries. Nester suddenly feels like a shithole. Hearing rain, he reaches up and pulls the window closed with some difficulty, grunting when it finally meets its sill.

Euphy comes back, in a pair of her painting overalls and a white t-shirt. "Okay. Let's get started." Box cutter in hand, she sets about slicing open all the boxes, while Suzaku stands watching awkwardly. "Don't just hang around, Suzu! Unload this box into the cabinet in the kitchen." She points with the cutter.

Therefore, he does, thinking (predictably) of Lelouch as he places a myriad of plastic kitchenware in the dark wooden cabinets. Liam (Arthur) watches, his tail flickering back in forth in an expression of interest.

She hums, in the other room, and unable to help himself, Suzaku smiles, delving into the next box and bobbing his head a bit. He imagines the way this moving adventure would have gone had they never broken up – perhaps much less productively, more kisses than cutlery, and no uncomfortable rootless feeling in his stomach caused by Lelouch's absence. This train of thought extends into a flashback, of the night their relationship ended, and the way he was absolutely blown away by her decision.

He steps back, holding a box, and hears a surprised, feline yelp – "Sorry, Arthur!" – but the cat sinks piranha-sharp teeth into his ankle and Suzaku stumbles, dropping the box and landing unceremoniously on his back.

Through the scope of upside-down vision, he sees Euphemia's pale ankles, and further up, her confused expression. "Did you step on him?"

"I didn't mean to," he sighs, getting to his feet and picking up the silverware that was scattered when the box fell. "Arthur – Liam – never liked me very much at all."

"He can be Arthur." Her lips curl up, bright blue eyes twinkling. "It suits him. Right, Arthur~" purring sounds alert Suzaku to the fact that the former stray got over being stepped on very, very quickly. He frowns and places the box on the counter. "Maybe we should work on something else. I was going to wait until tomorrow to start painting the living room, but it might work out better with two people."

"…Sure." Painting, oddly enough, seems less dangerous.

A few minutes later, when she pops open the paint can and hands him a brush, Suzaku finds himself wanting to talk. "Say Euphy… did you ever wind up going out with that guy you told me about? Lucio, or something?" They'd talked about him for a few hours, she giggling in that puppy-love way, and Suzaku brimming with relief that she'd actually lined up another romantic prospect. Not that she had trouble getting dates or anything – he'd just been sold on the idea that she'd sworn off men after what happened between them. Rivalz had debunked that theory, telling Suzaku not to flatter himself. She'd get back out there soon enough.

"Luciano." Euphemia makes the first stroke on the wall with her overlarge brush – Pepto Bismol pink, of course, her favorite color. "No, he – once I got to know him better, I realized how snobby he turned out to be. I don't want to be with someone who loves himself more than me."

"Hngh." Suzaku follows her motions with his own, a bit sloppier ones. "So he was self-absorbed. You don't think he could ever get over it?"

"Trust me, Suzaku… it was a hard-wired sort of thing with him." She sighs, as if remembering the ordeal, and dips her brush again. "How's Lelouch?"

"Fine. He's in Paris until the 14th," Suzaku replies, a bit quickly, his throat thickening.

The first thought that Euphemia gets is _oh, so that's why you're hanging out with me for once. _However, she keeps it to herself, gentle smile on her face. "That must be fun for him. He mentions France a lot in class. Didn't he live there once?"

"For a few years." Unable to push it out of his mind, Suzaku goes over the argument he had with Lelouch at the tournament. "He really likes it there."

Euphemia murmurs a soft _hmm _and keeps painting. How simple it must be for people like her to dismiss the thought of Lelouch, to consider him no more important than someone they have to finish homework for. He envies her for that, just a bit. Yet he brought this all on himself, all because he fell in love with Lelouch. The thought makes his chest hurt – not because he regrets it, but because ever since the professor left, he'd worked to keep from delving too far into his feelings for the older man.

Well, that was ruined. In deep again.

Eventually he and Euphemia finish painting (for today, at least) and move on to the more difficult task of cleaning the bathroom. Scrubbing the toilet of the last tenant five years after they move is not exactly a fun thing to do, but somehow he manages to stick it out by thinking of more annoying things. It could be worse. He could be rooming with Rolo instead of Clovis. Yeah. Rolo. Toilets really aren't so bad.

"Long day," his ex says later as they sit on the tiny balcony outside her living room, the air reeking of winter and lemon Pine-Sol. Suzaku looks up at the mostly covered sun, a washed out egg-yolk tainted white by clouds, and hums his agreement. The sense of accomplishment he feels after having finished the majority of their work is of little consolation to that large, gaping hole in his well-being that represents Lelouch's absence. Perhaps it would do him well to pretend the older really _is _away on a business venture, that his leave was an obligation rather than a pleasure trip. Sadly, Suzaku has never been very good at pretending. Besides, there's no forgetting that argument they had about it at the stadium.

"But a good one," he amends, allowing himself to smile.

"Do you want some iced tea?"

He's never been very fond of it, but she always liked when they drank the sweet beverage together. "Sure." He wants to finish the day off perfect, in her eyes at least, since he's pretty sure she doesn't have many good days anymore. Suzaku finds himself replaying the events of the final months of their relationship, attempting to see it through her perspective. When he's done, he feels like a real asshole.

She comes back outside and places the tea in front of him, then bites at her thumbnail while staring at the sunset. "It's really not all that cold for December. A little chilly, but."

Suzaku nods in agreement, brow furrowed. It's odd, really; once you're close with someone, then separate from him or her for a while, once you're reunited, things to talk about are rare. When he's with Euphemia, Suzaku is burdened with a strange mixture of emotions: shame, regret, and unfamiliarity, which perhaps stings most of all. Looking on her now and realizing that he doesn't know her anymore is a painful revelation, one he will out and out deny until the end. It's not _possible _to love someone for so long and then drift away so quickly, like disconnected ships in the sea.

Lately, though, he's found that it may very well be possible: he sees her talking to and hanging around with people he doesn't know, parroting inside jokes and sometimes even blowing him off when he attempts to make plans with her. It didn't occur to him until now that what he did to Euphy may actually have changed her – because now she seems to be disconnected, less gentle-hearted and more ambitious, an empowered young woman who doesn't seem to have time for love.

It nearly breaks his heart.

In childhood, Suzaku had always thought he'd failed two people, namely his mother and father. He'd killed him, then she had killed herself – and it had all happened because he'd been stubborn. What had happened with Euphemia was essentially the same thing, just different sins. He'd promised a future for her, the home life and the children, only to pull it out from under her as if it was some cruel joke. Suzaku feels he will never apologize to her for what he did, but maybe, just maybe, how he did it.

"Euphy?" She doesn't answer verbally, just looks up to him, blue eyes questioning. "I … I wanted to say I'm sorry. Again. I feel awful. I've felt awful this whole time and you didn't deserve it –"

"Suzaku, don't." Her voice is swift, overtaking his and growing with each word. "I know what being in love is like. You did what you had to, and I'm the one who has to live with it. That conscience of yours could unravel you, you know." A wan, tired smile. He almost wishes she were angry at him so this would make sense. "If Lelouch left you, would you hate him for it? If you knew it was what he needed to do, if you knew he was only doing it because he wanted to be happy?"

_I would probably still hate him. _"I don't know. Lelouch can be complicated about these things. I don't think he's all that clear on what 'happy' really is."

She thinks that over. "Maybe he is. He just doesn't know how to get there. Some people don't trust easily. It might take time."

His apology to Euphemia had become, as always, a discussion about Lelouch. And, in her eyes, if it was Lelouch, Lelouch who he so loves and honors, going through some romantic-rite-of-passage (that's how he assumes she sees it, anyway) he would probably just sit back and wish him the best.

Right. Though she's a smart girl, Suzaku has always thought Euphy has no grasp of the difference between men and women. "Guys are… we hold grudges sometimes. Besides, Lelouch, he –" he stops himself, letting out a sigh and trying to imagine such a situation between himself and the professor. If he can't explain it to himself, how could he possibly spell it out for Euphemia?

So they get quiet, just as they are the majority of the time.

––—∞—––

Lelouch has always appreciated the fine arts, all but one.

That one being ballet.

It just seemed vapid, pointless, harrowing. Essentially, these girls starved and worked themselves sick to master an absolute maximum of one dance per season – only to be looked over, ooh'd and ahh'd at for a short five-minute window, then forgotten. This isn't to say he doesn't respect the art – but the ballerinas he's encountered in Parisian studios typically fall under the starved-and-bitchy category.

When the dance finishes, he claps, eyes unfocused. One dark-haired dancer in the front row has been eyeing him since he sat down, her olive-green sunken in eyes flitting over him like a vulture lusting over carrion. Not even proper, let alone attractive, and to him, repulsive. Sure, she wasn't _ugly, _but she wasn't anything to look at regardless.

Daniel disagreed. "She's lovely," he murmured, and Lelouch resists the urge to retch. Of course, Daniel, known adulterer and fan of stickly post-pubescent girls in tutus, would feel his throat grow dry at this rather lackluster performance of Swan Lake. Lelouch yawns and sends a faux-impressed look at the departing head of the _Linguistique Ministère_, whose granddaughter danced in the show. The older woman smiles back and he turns away promptly, checking his watch.

"Is there anything else we have to do today?" he asks Daniel, whose dark eyes still linger on the ballerinas behind his thick glasses.

The other shakes his head. "Our daily quota of ass-kissing has been filled. You're free."

Lelouch nods and gets up, searching for the nearest exit. Smoke, check for reply from Suzaku, then forget about him as quickly as possible. It's become almost a daily routine for him now – because thinking of Suzaku stirs an uncomfortable cocktail of emotions within him. Namely, longing and, oddly enough, relief. He both misses the boy and is upset by the idea of returning to him, a fact he can only justify by deciding

(_I like my freedom.)_

And leaving it at that. Thinking too much has always been the initiation of a potential undoing for Lelouch, because the varying degrees of obsession and compulsion he experiences drive him to the meat of any issue – and as a man of action, he always found himself making decisions, more than often bad ones. Because of this thought process, Lelouch had discovered his way with words, a mixed blessing indeed.

Suzaku had replied.

_Hey. So are you saying maids have stolen your stuff before? I thought that in France, people were supposed to have class. But anyway. My day was interesting. I went to go and see my grandma and then I helped Euphy paint and decorate her apartment. She's still not very well organized and it's weird to be in a messy place after hanging around you for so long. Daniel thinks we're charming? I never hear that word anymore. Definitely not when it's describing anything with two guys. But it made me happy anyway. Oh, don't worry. I forget and lose stuff all the time, toothbrushes more than once._

_How would I have liked my day? Well, for starters, I wish you would've been here. And I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow. Probably sit on the computer all day and work on some of the coursework I've missed. That's a given, I guess._

_Sometimes I worry that you're never going to come back at all. Then I look at the calendar. 8 days left. Nunnally said we should throw you a party for when you get back but I told her you'd probably want to relax, and she agreed. So whenever you get home, I'm going to try not to annoy you like normal. Try to. I'm not making any promises. :)_

_Suzaku_

Of course Suzaku would characterize himself as annoying. He always finds a way to down himself even while complimenting or try to please another. Lelouch stares at the message, brow furrowed, trying to imagine the boy writing it, biting down on one lip, sitting at that purple-topped desk of his – Rivalz or someone else hangs around the room, asking him when they can leave for whatever adolescent activities they have planned. Lelouch exhales and it seems like laughter, because he's half-smiling, stowing his phone in his pocket.

Daniel exits the theater and finds him fairly quickly. "Did you bring an umbrella, Lelouch? I smell rain."

It's true – he does smell the musky, heavy scent of oncoming rain. It makes his hair curl up at the ends. "I haven't got one. That performance was dry."

"It was a nice thing to watch." Daniel smiles distantly. "For those of us of the heterosexual persuasion, anyway." He watches Lelouch light a cigarette, frowning as he cups his hand around the lighter to protect it from the air. The flame lights his pale face. "What's the matter?"

Lelouch shakes his head and blows smoke, "Ever hear of separation anxiety?"

"Sure." The older professor's dark brown eyes dart about, drinking him in. As he's a professor of psychology, it wouldn't necessary surprise Lelouch if Daniel saw right through that, but if he does, he keeps quiet about it and accepts the cigarette his colleague offers, watching the sky. Over the past few days, he's found himself wondering if lobbying for this position is in fact pointless – because like it or not, Lelouch is far more qualified and, more importantly, more coveted by the University than he is. What's worse is the fact that Lelouch seems lackadaisical, almost careless about it, treating the trip as a vacation and nothing more.

But it's always been that way; Lelouch so effortlessly trumping him and everyone else.

A crow lands on a power line some hundred feet above them. Lelouch watches it, still frowning, and follows it with his eyes as it darts away, zooming across the bluish-white horizon. More crows land. A woman passing them speaks sternly to her dog.

"It's too warm for winter," Daniel remarks, his voice a distant baritone. Lelouch drops his cigarette to the ground and prepares to smear it out with the sole of his shoe – but it's disappeared, presumably into the sewer grate on which he and his former classmate are standing.

After a moment, Daniel starts to talk about the performance more, and a few of the ballerinas he took a particular liking to. Lelouch follows along loosely, retrieving his phone from his pocket and opening the menu to compose a new message.

And when his colleague mentions something about wanting to see what other types of moves those dancers have (a provocative tone creeping across his words) Lelouch cannot help but be reminded of himself and Suzaku in bed – not in that way, but lying together, this morning, sharing a pillow. He'd been inhaling Suzaku's hair (pine, a bit like the smell after a rainstorm) when the brunet had said something to him that really hit home.

("Maybe you don't love me, but I know you're going to miss me.")

He bites on his thumbnail for a moment, staring at the blinking cursor on his screen. A thousand messages transpose themselves inside his head, but he writes the shortest, truest one he can think of.

_You were right. I do miss you._

_I'll be home soon._

––—∞—––

This chapter seems, to me, a bit rushed. I wrote it in segments spaced out over a long period of time, worked on it every second I've had a free moment at home, but nowadays those are few and far between for me :'D So, I apologize for that, but I hope this chapter still suits your fancy, because even though I didn't work on it as tirelessly as I hoped I could, I still worked hard. And I hope my poor Beta wasn't too harangued by the petty little errors, as I'm sure I've made many. Yet again, I'd like to thank you all for all the reviews you left last time – I've never read more detailed, probing comments on my work in my life. (I'd put a heart here, but would most likely fuck up the formatting, so… -imaginary heart-)

I know, I promised a short amount of time between updates last time, but I was sadly mistaken, as per usual. Many things happened, as it was of course the end of the school year. Moreover, after my first few days of freedom, I found myself at ROTC camp, after which I pretty much hibernated for a week. But I'm officially a junior! Woo! (I know most of you are older than me and couldn't care less, but sophomore year was a tedious one as schoolwork went.)

As you are inevitably tired of me rambling, I'll go now. What did you think of the chapter?


	11. he's got the dreamer's disease

_falling all over myself  
to lick your heart and taste your health_

_**violetta 11**_

––—∞—––

It is a well-known fact that in France, a kiss on both cheeks is more socially acceptable than a hug or handshake. Lelouch has always followed this rule as well as the next person, but on his last day in _l'Hexagone, _the gesture is making him rather anxious. Instead of establishing friendly intimacy like it's supposed to, it just makes him think of Suzaku.

They haven't spoken since he'd sent that email after the ballet, the same night he'd received a rather lengthy phone call from both C.C. and Nunnally, but not _him._

Before, he had predicted that in his absence, Suzaku would re-evaluate his priorities and perhaps realize how much he likes to spend time with others, but now… now all Lelouch can do is wonder why he had to be so damn right.

Of course, he'd been able to rid himself from the paranoia for a little while, right up until his current outing with Daniel and a few more of his former colleagues. When he leaned in to greet one or another ("_comment vas-tu, mon vieil ami?") _and give the customary dual cheeked-kiss, Lelouch thought of how he would rather it be Suzaku's skin beneath his lips.

Since, Lelouch has been enjoying himself in a restrained sort of way, systematically checking his watch, as the rest of the group sit bantering comfortably and sipping at costly dessert wine. They badgered him a bit for being so uptight, but now they're too far-gone to care. When he excuses himself, Daniel is the only one to notice. "Where -?"

"Something's come up," he answers with an apologetic smile. Good Farceur gives him a look of alcohol-clouded understanding and resumes his game of cards with renewed vigor.

A short while later, Lelouch catches a glimpse of the illuminated Eiffel Tower through the window of his taxi, but looks without seeing. As a boy, he had wished to see the Tower more than anything, but now it excites him about as much as the cosmetics firm he passes every day on the way to work back in Pendragon.

He has no doubt that if Suzaku had come along, he'd be snapping pictures and looking at monuments with something other than familiar nonchalance – in other words, he'd wind up enjoying himself, something Lelouch has unexpectedly had a spot of trouble with.

_You have a way of making me contradict myself, Suzaku Kururugi._

––—∞—––

An ocean away, Suzaku is getting a ride home from Gino rather than Rivalz (because somehow, his band has become just that demanding) when he has an epiphany of sorts.

_Lelouch is coming home tomorrow._

As the reader knows, Suzaku has been counting off on his calendar, but after all he's been busy – Monday he finally finished Euphemia's apartment, as well as the paper Gottwald had assigned him over the break, and after that, he'd just gone on focusing on other things, as he was sure Lelouch had too.

But seeing the date illuminated on Gino's radio interface - _Tuesday, December 13, 2010 – _he realizes that in less than 24 hours, they will have what is sure to be an interesting reunion.

As if reading his mind, Gino asks, "So, how's Lelouch been?" in that airy way he always does; Suzaku has always suspected the blond lives vicariously through him in many ways, the first being a preoccupation with his and Lelouch's relationship. "I haven't seen him around Nester for a little while."

"Lelouch went to Paris," he exhales, cranking down the radio's rather loud projection of Freddie Mercury's voice. "He's coming home in the morning."

_And I'm probably going to cling, then he's going to be annoyed with me and wish he'd stayed – _Suzaku lets out a breath, attempting once more to vilify the negative thoughts, and succeeding for the moment. They'd be wasted on someone as cheerful as Gino anyway.

"I see." Gino turns and gives a long, thoughtful sigh. "Man… I'd be worried if I were you. French people are pretty well known for homewrecking."

"I know," he says sharply, watching blue eyes blink uncomfortably at his tone.

"Sorry. At least you're going to get to see him again." And he finds he can't hate Gino at all when he smiles like that. "A lot of people have been wondering where he went off to. How long has he been there?"

"A week." A week full of Suzaku doing things he wouldn't have the time – or the desire – to do otherwise. Like hanging around Euphemia for long periods and actually reading his Biochemistry textbook. "He wanted to go and see people he used to work with."

"I always wanted to go to France." They pull into Nester's lot, then Gino's rather nice designated parking space. "If he has pictures, could you show them to me?"

_So easily pleased._ "Sure." Suzaku smiles at him. "Thanks for the ride. For a minute there I thought I was stranded."

"At FLAS? That wouldn't be so bad. They have some good fiction if you look for a while." He and Gino finally part ways after showing their identification cards at the door.

Suzaku makes haste in returning to his unit. There are leftover quesadillas in the fridge, and must eat quickly lest Clovis spot them. He's infamous for eating food that isn't his. He wonders why he hasn't resorted to leaving sticky notes on things.

Though oddly enough, whenever he enters their dorm, none of Clovis's belongings are visible his bed stripped and textbooks gone.

There's a note on the bedside table. _It's been lovely rooming with you, but a room opened up at Hackery Hall, and it's so much closer to the law buildings, I really couldn't refuse. I'll see you in Astrology. –Clovis_

Okay, so now he's alone. That helps, a little, in the sense that he won't have to wait until his roommate is absent to bring Lelouch around. Moreover, the quesadillas are safe.

The thing is, he will rather miss his avant-garde living mate. While he was annoying, the artist was a good buffer for the occasional post-exam rant, and he never forgot to buy things should Suzaku suggest them. In this, Suzaku realizes that groceries are now his responsibility and wonders briefly if he can perhaps get Gino to do it for him.

He opens his laptop and, alas, no reply from Lelouch. Well, he's probably busy getting things ready to come home, or having dinner with some handsome academic type -

Suzaku exhales. Paranoia is his least favorite trait about himself. That and self-pity. He emails some homework and spends a few minutes staring at the words _Message Sent_.

Had Gino ever felt this way about Professor Gottwald? Like he just didn't quite measure up? Surely, as their relationship had been purely sexual, and it was on that basis that it had ended – but Suzaku considers the idea that if his and Lelouch's were the same, perhaps less stress would be involved, and maybe he wouldn't feel so damn vulnerable with the professor out of the country.

He finds himself returning to the conversation they had an hour or so before he left ("_maybe you don't love me, but I know you're going to miss me") _and the email Lelouch sent that night pertaining to it, and feels the pressure in his chest lift just a little – because he'd assured him he'd missed him too, and that the week would be over soon enough.

All of this really is stupid. Someone said that if there was one thing people hated in a romantic partner, it was envy, insecurity – besides, even on the off chance that Lelouch _has _met someone in France, he will have to leave them behind anyway and return to him. Suzaku takes a bit of sick pleasure in that.

After a few more minutes of self-contradiction and reflection, there is a knock at the door. He frowns; it's probably Rivalz, asking him to borrow a box of dryer sheets or something equally mundane.

But when he opens the door, C.C. is on the other side. "Lelouch wants me to check a few averages he made last week, but I can't find his grade book. He told me it might be in here."

"He called you?" He was under the impression that Lelouch wouldn't have cell phone service at such a distance, though they'd never talked about it at length.

"Yesterday," C.C. confirms, looking around the room for a moment before proceeding to pull open his desk drawers. Normally Suzaku would bristle at such an intrusion, but curiosity has won him over. "A bit surprising, I thought. I was convinced he wouldn't have any free time."

_No free time? _"Isn't that what vacations are supposed to be for?"

C.C. gives Suzaku an incredulous look over her shoulder, and then stoops down to look more carefully. "…vacation?"

He watches her just a moment longer, brow furrowed. "He said he was going to France to see some people he used to work with."

"Well, that's true." She sucks in a breath and shoves the drawer closed with force, irritated, and moves on to the next one. "Don't you know about the job? He certainly hasn't let me forget about it. I've never heard him bitch more in my life."

"What job?" Suzaku blinks, confused and growing anxious. "He never told me about anything like that." And he doesn't know just how suspicious he is until it becomes evident in his voice.

C.C. gets to her feet and dusts the knees of her black jeans (though the floors were waxed just this morning), her face turning quickly from frustrated to – amused?

"It seems I've caused some trouble," she simpers. "The point your dear Lelouch neglected to mention, is that he went to Paris so he could kiss-ass his way into a job offer. I don't get it."

She looks through the books stacked up against the wall, and with a satisfied 'ah-ha', unearths a thin leather volume

Suzaku stares at her. _"_I don't believe this."

C.C. seems tickled by Suzaku's surprise. "Don't you? Do you at least know he's a former prince?" Pale fingers flick absently through the book.

"Yeah. I knew that," he replies, although his heart is pounding. "I don't know why he wouldn't – why would he keep this from me?"

A shrug. "He didn't tell Nunnally either. Said it would just hurt her feelings. Which, actually, I agree with. I can't imagine her wanting to move."

Suzaku's mouth is dry; Lelouch's words replay in his head, clear and succinct as if on a recording: _It's not a move; it's not me leaving you for anything. _

Yeah, and Suzaku smiled and agreed later that it would be okay, shirking his initial instinct that Lelouch was stepping out on him – of course, at that point he thought it would be a lover, not a _job._

Isn't this an interesting turn of events.

"Can't you tell me more about this?"

C.C. thinks on it. "Ever since I met him, Lelouch has gone on and on about a job at the University of Paris. He still does. Some Linguistiquo-thing, but don't quote me on that. Hhhh, anyway. I'm going now. Thanks for letting me look around."

Watching her retreating back, Suzaku feels further betrayed. Lelouch told C.C. but not himself or Nunnally? She said she already knew, but it stings all the same – had they discussed him, predicted his reaction, and decided to keep him in the dark?

The worst part is that he doesn't think Lelouch is above any of that. Suzaku doesn't realize he's biting his lip until he tastes blood.

––—∞—––

Lelouch is royally pissed off, pardon the pun.

You see, Britannian Airways is praised the world over for their first-rate customer service and security factions – yet somehow, _some_how, they had managed to mix up his suitcase with that of another passenger.

A suitcase with his name embroidered on it in plain sight, mind you.

So he's been standing here at the baggage claim for an hour, while the airline attempts to get in contact with the person whose luggage he received, by means of a rather meek employee by the name of Nina. She isn't bad at what she does, per say, but damn, he doubts she could be any slower dialing numbers or talking to personnel.

He'd have asked for someone else by now if it weren't for the fact that doing so would probably make her burst into tears.

Lelouch chews on the inside of his lip. It could be worse. They could have lost his bag completely, for it to wind up in the hands of some pickpocket. Luckily he decided at the last minute to stow his wallet in his slacks, so identity theft is off his list of worries. Thank god. He doesn't think he can deal with any more idiots today.

His phone blips.

_- on my way to nester. tell me when you get in._

_- - Will do._

He'll be home in an hour if everything works out. Maybe he can buy ChapStick while he's waiting, or perhaps a map. Topography has always been one of Lelouch's less talked about hobbies - that and internet backgammon.

The airport has a rather nice library, stainless-steel shelves filled with everything from Chaucer to Palahniuk. Lelouch busies himself with a rather lengthy book made up of interviews taken from various members of the Britannian Royal Family.

The first page showed his father in his younger days, wearing his nobleman's attire next to the then-new statue of him at the heart of the Imperial Court.

He turns the page, an amused smile taking hold of him as he lays eyes on a scanned newspaper clipping: _Schneizel El Britannia nailed in sex scandal! _The following interview was composed mostly of his brother denying the allegations, backed by Odysseus, who always suckled the teat of those higher in line for the thrown than he.

Lelouch flips through the rest of the book with detached interest, taking in the adult forms of the siblings he left as children – photographed in their stately bedrooms, wearing the Britannian coat of arms.

and then –

_Marianne vi Britannia (right) is pictured with her son and daughter, Eleventh Crown Prince Lelouch vi Britannia, (left) aged sixteen, and Princess Nunnally vi Britannia (center) aged one._

The picture is dated 13 May 1997 – three months before his mother's death. He actually remembers when it was taken – after foreign dignitaries had made their yearly visit to the Aries Villa. His mother had said that since she'd bothered to get dressed up for the event, she may as well have a family photo taken too.

Lelouch can't help but notice the ostentatious look on his sixteen-year-old face – he seemed to look at the camera like he had everything figured out though he remained so isolated from the outside world.

Nunnally, plump and large eyed, is looking at her hands. He smiles, remembering the futile efforts of one of his mother's aides waving a stuffed rabbit behind the camera, trying to get the young princess's attention. He had never liked that man, as he didn't_ wear_ cologne so much as _bathe _in it.

The only thing that pulls him away from the picture is the persistent ringing of his phone, a noise that soon has many of his fellow readers glaring at him. "Hello?"

"Mr. Lamperouge, we've gotten a hold of the woman with your suitcase. She lives a little while away, so it may take a day or two before we deliver it to your address – is it Arbordale Drive, or Nester Hall at the University of Pendragon?" he can tell Nina is reading from his passport.

"Arbordale would be better."

He flips the page to find a detailed biography of Marianne "The Flash" vi Britannia. They have her birthplace wrong.

(And, of course, he and Nunnally are listed as _'deceased'. _As promised.)

"Thank you for your patience."

He hangs up without another word, quickly forgetting about Air France and the whole business, (not to mention the fact that he'll have to buy yet _another_toothbrush) in favor of the rather heavy hardback book in his hands.

As if on cue, however, as soon as he's gotten back into reading, Lelouch's phone alerts him of yet another message from Suzaku.  
**  
**_- you hungry?_

_- - Very._

His phone reads 3:53 PM - about the time Nunnally finishes her studies for the day, as well as an hour after he told Suzaku to expect him back. It's definitely time to go. He looks at the book a moment longer. There are far too many chapters dedicated to Charles.

––—∞—––

After a long and anxiety-ridden commute, Lelouch unlocks the door to his residence at Nester with some difficulty. He smells lemon, and remembers Sayoko buying some air freshener 'to make it smell homier around here'.

He stands in the doorway a moment, waiting for the telltale sounds of Nunnally's wheelchair, but they do not come. Lelouch almost concerns himself with the green-haired burden, too, but discovers her soon enough, lazing on the chaise lounge and regarding him coldly from behind a newspaper.

"Welcome home, Monsieur."

For a moment, he wonders if Sayoko caved and gave C.C. a key to his residence – then again, he'd stopped asking how she got in a long time ago.

"Hello, Cecilia. Are you reading that or using it as a prop?"

She puts the paper down. "Did you bring me a present?"

Lelouch takes a moment to remove his coat and scarf, dropping his briefcase rather carelessly on the floor next to his desk. "I only bought them for those who asked me before I left. Like Nunnally." Her snow globe, wrapped in gift paper, waits in the suitcase the airline has yet to deliver.

"Right. If you're looking for Nunnally or Sayuki they're next door with Wonderboy." (Her new nickname for Suzaku.)

He doesn't bother correcting her about Sayoko's name or asking what she did during his absence; either would probably lead to one of those predictable snarky arguments he isn't in the mood for. Instead, Lelouch sits at his desk.

C.C. tuts at him. "Are you not going to see them?"

"I am. I have to call Dean Carlan and tell him I've come home."

"I met him, or was that someone else?"

"You've met."

"A real spastic, that one."

He waves her into silence and chats for a moment with his boss about Paris ("Oh, you should show me all the pictures you've taken!", though there are none) and discusses the progress of the new transfer students, as well as the Dean's rather lofty hopes about how many will make his list once term continues.

He also informs Lelouch that he and the rest of the faculty will return to work January 3rd, at the beginning of the new semester. It's far too early in his opinion, but federal regulations have majority rule. "Though if it were any earlier, forget the circuit, I'd sue the royal court!" Carlan chortles, finding himself as hilarious as always. The professor gives a strained chuckle.

With much effort, Lelouch manages to stave off a longer conversation, and parrots the Dean when he says 'au revoir', though he doesn't sound nearly as upset about it.

When he's sure they're disconnected, Lelouch's voice grows sour. "I honestly wish I were as passionate as he is."

C.C. just turns the page of her newspaper. "Wonderboy was asking me about your trip, you know."

"Was he now?" Not quite listening, adjusting his tie, Lelouch's mind is already next door. "I'll order you a pizza tonight if you don't make a mess while I'm gone." Immediately her lips curl and there is blessed silence for the last minute or so before he nods, "bye", and shuts the door behind him.

He spots Rolo in a study lounge through a few walls of glass, and speeds up his step just a bit, actually walking past Suzaku's door and then backing up to knock.

There is a pause, a muffled, excited fragment of his sister's voice (he cannot help but smile at this), and after a moment of doorknob rifling, there stands Sayoko.

"Welcome home, Lelouch," she says, leaving out the 'Master' title for once. It does not bother him, as he never quite liked that expression of subservience in the first place. "Miss Nunnally and Suzaku have been waiting for you."

Nunnally is the first one he sees, and she doesn't seem to have any trouble finding him – when they embrace, her downy scent surrounds him, and with a swell of brotherly affection, he prolongs the hug as far as she will allow.

"Lelouch! I've finished my project – Suzaku painted the planets for me and everything." She smiles sweetly up at him, ecstatic, and the sight satisfies him like nothing else.

"That's great," he replies, remembering how hard she worked on sculpting every planet, even dwarf star Pluto, which she insisted on including. "You ought to get an A."

However much they may both prefer Sayoko, she does not have a teaching degree, so an instructor at the public high school grades the majority of Nunnally's work. She's a seedy woman with a raspy voice, and Lelouch always tries as much as possible to shorten their meetings. "I doubt that…"

"She'd better. I worked hard on Jupiter." Suzaku approaches, in a gray university sweatshirt and jeans. "Hi, Lelouch." Still so marvelous and green-eyed. "How's it going?"

"It goes." Ushering Nunnally inside, Lelouch finally steps over the threshold, the sound of the door closing behind him sounding much quieter than it really is. Suzaku's dorm is clean, and… "What's happened to your roommate?"

The bed belonging to Clovis and the presiding nightstand seem restored to University-default, comforter and alarm clock gone. A shivering Suzaku explains, "He moved into Hackery Hall yesterday. Says it's closer to the pre-law buildings."

Suddenly they're face to face, and he's overcome by a juvenile feeling, as if he's some teenager stricken with puppy love. He smiles, but Suzaku does not, instead wearing a look of blistering indifference.

Well then.

"How have you been?" he questions, a bit tritely; Suzaku purses his lips.

"I've been okay." Albeit cautious, Suzaku sounds a bit warmer this time around. Lelouch does not have time to analyze him any longer, however, because his sister has returned from the kitchen.

"Come sit down," she implores him, though her voice remains sweet. He can only oblige, sitting close to her and toying with a grapefruit on the table. "Tell me everything. You know I like hearing about your trips."

"Somehow, I doubt he'll tell _everything_," Suzaku says, feigning laughter.

_You -_ Lelouch's throat goes dry, but he won't look away from his sister. _C.C. must have-! _

"Well, I visited a lot of different places, of course," he splutters, though Nunnally doesn't notice his anxiety.

"The Eiffel Tower?"

"Yes, and the Louvre too."

"Wow!"

Nunnally and Lelouch talk for a while, and she thrills to hear the differences between France and Britannia – he's always noticed his sister's love for all things foreign. Perhaps growing up in the palace, where non-Britannian cultures were ignored, were scarcely even _mentioned, _fostered that in her.

His eyes flick to Suzaku constantly, but the brunet will not hold his gaze.

(Lelouch _wants _to say he has no idea why, but then he'd be lying.)

Serving as a momentary distraction, Nunnally asks him a few more questions - how to say this and that in French, soon asking Suzaku if Lelouch has taught him any. "Nah. I probably couldn't follow it anyway." His voice is stiff, resentful. Lelouch's chest flutters unpleasantly.

It has to happen sooner or later… "Suzaku – when you get the chance, we need to have a talk."

The boy just nods, swirling his spoon around in the dark soup he's eating. Lelouch is thankful for his compliance.

Nunnally continues her barrage of questions and Lelouch rather enjoys answering them – satisfying Nunnally's curiosity on certain subjects has always tickled him, and for a moment his focus shifts away from Suzaku, but _only _for a moment.

She's halfway through asking a question about the difference in currencies when the clang of silverware makes them both look up. He watches Suzaku take his bowl to the sink and then walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

A short silence later, Nunnally speaks. "I think he's upset," she says lowly. "I don't know why he would be, but he's been down on himself all day."

"He's like that a lot," Lelouch deflects unsuccessfully, if the way his sister purses her lips means anything.

"You should talk – now." This is one of those rare moments where Nunnally speaks firmly to her brother, so he cannot help but obey. As soon as Suzaku comes back, which may be a while as he tends to sit in the bathroom and think for long –

Well. Never mind. Suzaku sits, his chair scraping the floor with an unpleasant noise. Lelouch is transfixed on Nunnally for a moment longer before finally letting out a sigh.

"…could you come next door with me for a minute?"

Nothing, just a nod, and when Suzaku gets up to follow him, Lelouch notices that he is keeping an uncharacteristic distance as they walk down the hall between their dormitories. His door is still unlocked, thankfully, and when upon entering he sees C.C. on the loveseat, he snaps, "Out."

She blinks at him, smiles, and takes her newspaper with her into the hallway, heading off toward a study lounge. He could care less if she's spotted.

More importantly, they're finally alone. Suzaku finally looks at Lelouch and feels hurt when he sees the smile on the older's face. The _guilty _smile. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too," he says, because it's true, but doesn't elaborate. "I'm actually kind of glad you brought me over here. There are some things I want to talk to you about."

And, as predicted, he sees Lelouch's face fall victim to dread, grow white with apprehension.

"You sent C.C. over to get your grade book yesterday."

Lelouch regains his composure, just a tad. "Oh, that. I'm sorry if she barged in; you know how she can be sometimes." He smiles gratuitously, compensating with his eyes, searching for words. "What about it?"

Maybe denial was one of the things Lelouch was schooled in at the palace. Suzaku's eyes narrow. "She told me the reason you really went on your trip."

Immediately, Lelouch's smile disappears. "Oh yes, well – I thought of mentioning it to you, but you know, I wasn't aware of the job being open until after I left." He punctuates this lie with an uncomfortable little laugh. It's a bit too much.

"She told me you've been waiting for years, and that you seemed pretty serious about it whenever you guys talked."

The older looks almost amused. "You –"

"Don't make excuses." Suzaku's voice starts to harden. "You _know_ how much I went through over you leaving and you convinced me that I should trust you, so I did – and for what?"

Lelouch exhales into his palm and shakes his head. His violet eyes are on the ceiling, but he doesn't look the slightest bit remorseful. "I knew you'd react this way. That's why I didn't tell you."

"I'd appreciate the honesty a lot more than I appreciate the lie." Inadvertently, Suzaku spits; Lelouch wipes it off his cheek and gives him a look as if to say '_really'?_ The younger sucks in a breath. "Why would you keep that from me? And Nunnally?"

Finally, Lelouch shows a bit more emotion, his teeth gritted. "What I do and don't tell my sister is a part of my parenting, which isn't your business."

"You still haven't told me why you lied."

_You knew this was coming._ "The job at the University of Paris was a part of my life long before I ever met you, Suzaku," he explains, mouth twitching. "Just like you, I have a right to pursue my ambitions, do I not?"

"This isn't even about that. Don't guilt me."

"Look." Lelouch sighs. "You're hurt. I know that. But I've just gotten home and even if you don't believe me anymore, I missed you," he says flatly, eyes like ice. "I was trying to spare you some stress and evidently I went about it the wrong way. I had hoped C.C. wouldn't open her idiot mouth and make it worse, but I've learned that whatever can go wrong, will."

His arm twitches at his side as he realizes just how Suzaku must feel – like he wasn't even worth enough to be informed about the true nature of the trip, like he was just some stray thought back home – and this, in fact, was something Lelouch tried his very hardest to turn him into.

A miserable failure at best.

"I've spent years dreaming about this job. It was the first thing I ever really wanted. I thought about telling you, but in the end it felt better to –"

Suzaku's face is beet red. "Lelouch – "

"Let me finish. It felt better to keep it from you completely. I didn't want you to feel like I left you behind. I realized some time later that it was the wrong thing to do, but honestly, Suzaku, could I tell you_? _After we'd been getting along so well, and I felt like you were beginning to trust me?"

Lelouch is speaking quickly, breathlessly, and with so much _emotion._ Suzaku just watches, a million thoughts going through his head. A large part of him yearns to continue yelling, make Lelouch regret his deceit, but something – something about the way he's looking at him is making it very difficult to do.

Maybe it's the hands, the way he's talking with them, or the distressed look in his eyes as his mouth moves a thousand miles an hour.

Whatever the case, Suzaku feels his anger easing up a bit. _Just _a bit.

"I always trusted you. I'm upset because you were talking to C.C. and not me. Call it childish if you want."

Lelouch closes his eyes. "C.C. was the only person who already knew about it. I skirted around ways to mention it in my emails, but in the end…" He inhales quietly. "When you tell a lie, it has a way of snowballing. I guess I would rather have lived with that than face you."

When the professor acknowledges his shortcomings (which is about as often as a sunny day in winter) Suzaku always breaks open somewhere inside. Loses his urge to fight. Because there's no longer any need.

"You were wrong; you know I would never judge you like that. I'd be upset about you moving, and if you actually left I don't know what I'd do, but – " Suzaku cuts himself off, shaking his head. "I can't trust you right now, Lelouch."

Lelouch gives him a discerning look. "However you feel, the fact remains that you just stood up for yourself. You demanded answers and reasons and you _yelled _at me." Now he's smiling.

Suzaku looks down, his voice growing quiet. "Yeah. Of course I did. I was – I _am_– hurt."

"You should stick with those reactions, Suzaku. They'll get you places."

Then Lelouch moves forward and hugs him. Hard.

(Looking back, Suzaku always thought that was an odd precursor to an embrace – but it didn't matter when he was realizing just how _alive_ he felt, drunk on the feeling of Lelouch up against him – and while the frown remains on his face, he doesn't fight him. He can't.)

"I know you only lied because you thought it was the right thing to do."

"It wasn't. I didn't mean to lie."

"You did." He watches a look flit across Lelouch's face and amends, "What I think you mean to say is that you didn't mean to hurt me. And I'm thankful for that."

"Hmph." It's a soft, amused little noise Lelouch makes, either when he's just beaten someone particularly nasty at chess or had some form of revelation. "We fought for nothing. I know you might not forgive me yet, but I can't change what's already been done."

"I know you can't." Suzaku closes his eyes, or nearly does, before he spots something. "What's that in your hand?"

"Mm? Oh, it's a guide on the royal family. I picked it up at the airport." He places _A Look into the Life of the Emperor and His Legacy _in Suzaku's waiting hand. "The page I have marked might interest you."

Suzaku's nose crinkles in concentration as he flicks through it. "Here's Prince Schneizel… I met him, didn't I?"

"Yes." Lelouch thinks back on the day Suzaku made his brother's acquaintance, more specifically the cold, almost mocking way Schneizel introduced himself – as if an Eleven wasn't worthy of his time. "Hey, if you borrow that book, make sure you keep it hidden."

"I know. Is this you?" Suzaku smiles playfully when he turns the book around for Lelouch to see. "That's a conceited face."

"I was sixteen… the age when boys think they have the world in their pocket." He smirks to himself, taking the book from Suzaku to inspect it more closely and only being able to look at his mother. She was so strong, to the point of virility even, and it's still difficult to believe that something as simple as a bullet could ruin it all so quickly.

"This is me when I was ten."

Evidently, while he was thinking, Suzaku fished a photograph out of his wallet. It takes Lelouch a moment to concentrate.

Only because of the eyes can he tell they're even the same person. He'd expected the younger Suzaku to be as reserved and cordial as the current one, but the little boy he sees here is the epitome of a rambunctious, risk-loving child – he gets the distinct impression he was a handful.

"My father was still alive then. He told me I had crooked teeth."

"I disagree…" Lelouch's brow furrows. "Have you visited the Kururugi Shrine since he died?"

"No. I've thought about it, but I don't think anyone there would be very pleased to see me. If they haven't left, anyway." Suzaku puts the photograph away, looking wistful. He and Lelouch look at each other for a moment, and eventually it is the older who looks away, plagued by the onslaught of nostalgia they've caused. "…I can't think of how long it's been since I've thought about it. I spent so much time trying not to."

"I don't think it should be anything to worry about. The past itself no longer exists, but it can only truly affect us if we let it."

"That was philosophical."

Lelouch can't help but feel like a bit of a hypocrite. No one thinks of the past more than he does, no one obsesses more over so many minute details. Wondering insane things – like if only he'd come downstairs earlier, he'd have been able to perhaps convince Marianne to give him a French lesson or something similar, and hence stop her death by taking her away for himself.

The book feels a bit heavier in his hand.

"Do you think Nunnally's worried?"

"She always worries about you," Suzaku reminds him kindly, and it occurs to Lelouch that the brunet is reading his mother's biography. "And with good reason. If you were my older brother, I'd be worried about you too. You aren't exactly the sort of person who tells her about your day."

"I can't exactly give her details," he says, voice a bit teasing. "What about you? Does your grandmother know about my existence, even?"

Suzaku shakes his head. "Japanese people are really old-fashioned about some things. She wouldn't really like the idea that you're my professor. Or that you're – "

"Britannian."

"I was going to say male." The boy chuckles, but after a short while grows solemn. "No, she doesn't have a problem with Britannians. She loved Euphy, even though they really couldn't talk much. Language barrier and all."

Lelouch watches Suzaku's hands as they work their way through the book, fixated on the way he treats it with the utmost care.

"Do you think if I came by for dinner one day – just as a friend – she'd mind?"

Plaintive-eyed Suzaku, with his gentle grimace, presses his feet closer together. "I don't know. I'd have to make up a better excuse than that. Older people are more intuitive than you think."

The professor wonders briefly, why when Suzaku said that, he thought of Nunnally. He laughs to himself.

"I think we should be getting back over to her and Sayoko eventually. She's bound to come knocking if she feels like we've been gone too long."

"Right." Suzaku places the book on the bedside table and gets to his feet, yawning a little. He watches Lelouch cross the threshold. "Hey – come back here a second."

"Hm?" In returning to the room, Lelouch can't help but notice the rather fervent expression the other is wearing. Almost as if he's ailed by something. "Are you feeling alright?"

The way he inclines his head, that telltale twitch of his lips (though it had seemed unintentional) – they clue him in to the younger's intentions before he acts on them.

But Lelouch still finds himself stiffening, eyes wide, when their mouths meet.

It seems he missed Suzaku a lot more than he'd thought.

––—∞—––

Upon their arrival, Nunnally tells the tale of the cake she'd baked for his homecoming (something Suzaku had originally wanted to keep a surprise, but Lelouch isn't the only Lamperouge sibling with excellent powers of persuasion). Suzaku and Euphy – a rather unexpected character in the story – decided they would build a three-tier cake.

"It was like baking three separate cakes, but it wasn't hard," his sister states proudly.

"Nope," says Suzaku cagily, looking a bit exasperated at the memory. Lelouch winks at him. "Anyway, I didn't know if you wanted butter cream or not, but since you don't eat sweets anyway, I figured you wouldn't really have a preference."

"Probably not." Lelouch runs his fingers over a bruised peach in Suzaku's fruit bowl, feeling a rush of affection for him and Nunnally both; it is, however, accompanied by a creeping feeling of shame.

The boy had done all of this yesterday, most likely already knowing he'd lied about the trip. He sees it now, Suzaku icing the cake, biting his lip, furious but nonetheless motivated by the fact that he is, to the core, a kind soul.

"Sayoko, what're we eating?"

"Master Suzaku had C.C. bring me a cookbook from your unit last night. I thought I'd try my hand at a few things," she says evasively, her light brown eyes twinkling. He raises his eyebrows, but doesn't question her further – besides, it's getting rather difficult to avoid looking at Suzaku.

Because really, he has no chance. Knowing that Suzaku is upset with him, yet still shows his affection in so many ways (intentional or not) is simply astounding. Normally, he'd just think he was being a pushover, letting Lelouch win just for the sake of ending the argument –

But something, perhaps the way Suzaku had kissed him (assured, so much more forcefully than normal), makes this all a bit more difficult to figure out.

Rain comes not even a minute later; Nunnally says something about hoping the students outside don't get too soaked. Lelouch doubts they'd care. He's seen more college students dancing in the rain nowadays than running away from it – Weinberg, the obnoxious RA, thrills at any sign of incoming precipitation, and normally cannot be found during a storm.

He shakes his head, bemused, wondering if he'd been so odd at that age.

Suzaku asks, "What're you thinking about?"

"Gino." The look he gets in receipt invites a slight chuckle from Lelouch. "He isn't so bad. The rain made me think of him."

"Ah." A faint smile. "He's nice. I – I really ought to tell you something about him one of these days I think you'd find interesting." Suzaku seems lost in thought, concentrated on the wall. _Oh, what unattractive wallpaper_, Lelouch observes, while becoming aware of Suzaku nudging at his foot. After hesitating for a moment, he reciprocates, catching the younger's playful eyes above the table.

He really does enjoy it, spending time with Nunnally and Suzaku. When the three of them are together, he finds it difficult to be worried or anxious about anything - but this in itself serves to make him worried and anxious, due to the fact that he still dreads the notion of Schneizel and Max trying to infringe upon their makeshift family.

(The two seem hidden behind a veil, only to emerge at the worst moment and turn everything upside down.)

Sayoko cheerfully informs them that dinner is ready, bringing over a large covered dish. Upon its unveiling, Lelouch recognizes thick red sauce, as well as artfully arranged shallots and onions. "Lobster coquilles?"

The maid reddens. "It took all afternoon… Suzaku and I must have started over at least four times."

"It looks fine. Seems like you've done a lot of cooking since I've left, Suzaku."

Green eyes flicker. "It was an experience."

They eat for a long time, Nunnally beguiling them with stories of people she has met on campus (a few of which Lelouch must raise his eyebrows at, but given the general nature of things at this school, he doesn't linger on any of it), including Kallen who, on occasion, sits with the younger Lamperouge in the study lounge.

"I don't think she ever goes to class," remarks Suzaku with a mouthful of dinner roll. "But I hear her grades are as good as Rolo's."

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

But on this occasion, the boy is right – the Stadtfeld girl has curiously high marks for someone who is loath to put in class time. He watches her sometimes, beneath the guise of silver-rimmed spectacles (whenever she does happen to attend), wondering if perhaps she's merely consumed by partying as C.C. once was.

"Oh – I forgot to mention…" Nunnally bites her lip, as if she's committed some sort of faux pas, and eagerly continues, "The other day in the library, I thought I heard… I mean, there aren't many people who sound like him, but I think it was…"

Lelouch gives her an odd look, but Sayoko clarifies, "She's talking about His Highness, Prince Schneizel." Her voice is grave, and she and the professor lock eyes; Suzaku watches, lips pursed.

"I wonder why no one noticed him on campus," wonders the Japanese youth, setting his spoon down with a _clink. _"Though I guess people like that learn to be discreet."

"Yes," Lelouch grounds out, "They do."

Suddenly, he's lost his appetite. Here it is – a flaw in the plan. Just a few moments ago he was fretting about it, too.

Schneizel, most likely accompanied by Max or some other blue-blooded snit, is hanging around the university to watch Nunnally – and the rest of the damn faculty are probably just shitting their pants with admiration, not one of them deigning to mention it to him.

He'd talked himself out of worrying just a few minutes ago, too. "Excuse me for a minute." He ignores a poignant pair of green eyes on his way out of the room. _Just eat your food and quit worrying about me._

After shutting himself in his bedroom, Lelouch spends a good minute simply staring at the name _Schneizel _in his contact list. If he calls, his brother will know that he's gotten to him – if he doesn't call, it's likely there will be more royals trumping about the halls of the university, delighting in the act of unhinging both his sister and himself.

_Think of Nunnally, _Lelouch repeats staunchly to himself as the phone rings.

"Yes?"

"Schneizel. We need to have a talk." Lelouch has always prided himself on being able to sound calm in situations like these.

"Oh, Marianne's princeling. Hello. I was wondering who was calling me on my private line." He can see his brother's face, disgustingly sanguine and relaxed, perhaps while he sits back in some squashy armchair enjoying his idleness for all it's worth. "I think I know what you're calling about, as well."

A muscle jumps in Lelouch's jaw. "I can't think of any reason why you'd appear at the university other than to spy on my sister and –"

"_Our _sister, Lelouch," Schneizel says, in a sugary voice that reminds him of a mother reprimanding a child. "You shouldn't be worrying about that in any case. Do you not have students to be concerning yourself with? Or are you as lazy now as you were fifteen years ago?"

"I happen to be on leave for the Christmas holidays, like the rest of the faculty."

"You also neglected to come to our brother's wedding."

Lelouch snorts. "I doubt he cared. I have a similar questions for you – as a prince of the empire, don't you have anything better to do other than keep an eye on a brother who doesn't have any interest in his place in that empire?"

"I have better things to do. I consider you and Nunnally a bit of a hobby, actually. Our father, while you may not think him a good man, asks about her often. I feel obligated to make sure she's being taken care of."

"Which she is." His voice grows. "If you care about our sister… if you even want to call her that, because she's more afraid of you than anything else – you'll leave her be."

"Don't you understand, Lelouch? When you're born royalty, royalty you will remain. No one here has forgotten you, nor your sister or Marianne. You could easily quit that tedious job and re-claim your title. I'm sure our siblings would welcome you with open arms."

Lelouch's grip tightens on the phone; simultaneously, it's growing difficult to keep his voice down.

"Don't manipulate me. You don't know anything about what those people put me through, or what I had to do to gain my freedom. If you think you can take Nunnally away from me just for your own amusement, you're mistaken."

There is a pregnant pause. Lelouch tries to catch his breath, realizing the faint sounds of conversation from the kitchen from before have gone completely silent. He steels himself and continues, a bit surer of himself now that he's remembered something.

"You can't remove her from my custody. Not without orders from a judge."

Laughter, soft and infuriating. "Fool. Do you think_I_ need approval from the court? All those years of commoner life must have gotten to your head."

"This is no time for _jokes!"_ Lelouch spits, ready to rebuke his brother if he makes another snide comment, but after a _click, _his phone reads _Schneizel: Disconnected._

_He who angers you - _he catches himself, retracting the arm he'd extended to throw the phone across the room – _conquers you._

And despite all the things the royal family has taken away from him, Lelouch will not let them steal his self-control too. It's time to think, be rational, take action. He cannot, however, think of anything to do other than report it to Dean Carlan, which would be completely pointless. What authority would he have over royalty?

Moreover, if he even brought it up, the Dean would grow curious and before he knew it, his identity would be questioned… people would talk… from there, it would be a sinking ship.

And then where was Nunnally, who he'd worked so hard to keep with him through everything – who he'd begged Charles for on that day when he'd kneeled before him, seventeen and newly orphaned (for he'd never really considered the emperor his parent in any right), bargaining for his independence.

After much argument and opposition, the young Lelouch and his father had struck up a deal: in exchange for both Nunnally and a legal name change, Lelouch would never tell anyone the true manner of Marianne's death.

Since then, the entire thing has haunted him – through his expedited high school tenure, the decade-long pursuit of the PhD, and the four months he's spent with Suzaku.

It seems like a horribly short amount of time now, but really, no number of years could ever be enough. He always wondered how children could wear the outfits of princes and princesses with such splendor, hoisting their pumpkin-shaped buckets high without realizing what sort of people they were portraying.

Of course, children have only a faint inkling of the real world as well as right and wrong. His own had been just the same until July of his sixteenth year.

"Master Lelouch?"

_Sayoko._ The world seems to be rushing back now, stirring and colorful. For a second he can't speak.

"I'll be out in a moment. I just had to make a phone call."

He keeps in a sigh until the sound of her footsteps has faded. How will he cope with this in front of Nunnally? She's always been quite sensitive to him, in particular, and not because of her blindness.

Still, staying in this room will do nothing but make her – and Suzaku for that matter – worry more and ask questions. And he can't have that.

They're nearly eating cake now, Nunnally insisting to cut it ("_because I made the frosting and I feel I should be entitled!"). _Suzaku looks at him fleetingly, concerned, but Lelouch can't meet his eyes. Like his sister's, they have a way of making him feel rather vulnerable.

Instead, he focuses on Sayoko's hands and the cake they're working on cutting into pieces. Nunnally was correct in saying he really doesn't care for sweets, but this colorful confection does look particularly appealing in the wake of that nerve-racking phone call.

And it tastes good, too. Silence falls upon the four of them as they all just enjoy it, including Sayoko – which is a bit strange as she always mentions some sort of blood sugar issue – for a good ten minutes without saying a single word.

The silence is both a blessing and a curse, leaving Lelouch alone with his thoughts but giving him no buffer when they get a bit too intense. _Intense _being an adjective for the rather vivid mental images of himself blowing Schneizel's head off with the Glock he bought C.C. whenever she graduated from college (it had been a 'novelty item' she insisted upon).

Suzaku is first to break the silence. "I wonder if Dean Carlan's enjoying the vacation."

"Oddly enough, he's in his office. I spoke to him earlier." Lelouch places his fork on his plate along with the scarce remains of his portion. "It seems like a lot of the staff work a while into the break; maybe they're planning on slacking off next term." Like that kook Fletcher, who he's seen fast asleep at his desk a number of times (in passing, of course). "Does Euphemia have any plans for the break, Suzaku?"

His student looks at him curiously. "Not that I know of. We just finished detailing her apartment Monday so I think she'll be relaxing for a while."

"Her lease allowed her to paint?"

"Her landlord's a nice guy, I think." With that, Suzaku collects his and Lelouch's plates and carries them to the sink, directing a dismissive wave at Sayoko when she attempts to get up. "It's my place. I'll take care of it."

For a moment, the professor is convinced Suzaku is going to remember the France ordeal and hurl the plate at him – but he just shoots him a grin and promptly busies himself with the dishes.

While that smile may have been charming and a bit dizzying (that boy could be in toothpaste ads), Lelouch couldn't help but see right through it, mostly because he can't see any reason why Suzaku would just forget that he'd been deceived and revert to his own little cheerful, denial-ridden world.

Besides, he'd been beyond amazed at the look on Suzaku's face during their argument earlier – like he'd been struggling to hold in some urge to cry, to hit, to _express _something other than shame or regret.

It all washed away when Lelouch apologized, as if nothing even happened and they could celebrate his homecoming as planned.

He's likely being such a pacifist because Nunnally and Sayoko are here – while he is good at many things, Suzaku isn't one to make a scene, generally waiting until later to hedge his way into confrontation. Lelouch has always found this habit equally galling and ingenious.

"Is Nunnally staying with you tonight, Sayoko?"

The maid nods, placing the cake on a glass stand and covering it. It adorns the middle of the table. "I figured you and Master Suzaku would want to have some time to yourselves."

That thought is a curious one – time with Suzaku? Who, however he may be acting now, more or less wants to see his head mounted on a fireplace? The notion was a lovely one some hours ago, when he was still on the plane, assured that his and C.C.'s plan had not fallen through.

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

Sayoko stands, retrieving her purse from the coat hanger mounted near the poster of rules and regulations Suzaku had once read and then completely disobeyed.

"Well, welcome home again, Master Lelouch. I'm glad you had a good time in France. I'll be starting tutoring Nunnally tomorrow at 8 AM."

"Have a good night," he replies, giving her a short smile then directing his gaze downward, experiencing figurative heartbreak that feels nearly tangible as his eyes reach Nunnally.

As they feasted on cake and he worried himself with Suzaku instead, Lelouch had a temporary reprieve from the new, crushing anxiety now associated with thoughts of anyone related to him. Taking a knee in front of her, he speaks in a low voice. "I know you like exploring the campus, but I have to ask you not to leave Sayoko's sight from now on, within reason."

"Lelouch." She takes his outstretched hand and the skin is broiling. "You're worried about something. You can tell me what it is. I'll listen."

He almost, almost wants to put faith in his sister's quasi-maturity, but she really has no idea of what Schneizel could have planned.

"I just want you to be safe. Trust me, Nunnally. There are people around here who don't have the best intentions, and you _are_ fifteen now – "

"Does this have to do with Schneizel? I thought it was strange that he was around here. Is that who you were on the phone with?"

His eyes flicker to Sayoko. Her face is somber. "It was a business call."

His sister doesn't seem to buy it, but she nods anyway, turning his hand over in her fingers and tracing the palm. Lelouch watches, transfixed. "The other day, I read a book about palm reading. It says that depending on the length of a certain line…" her digits work discerningly. "You can tell how long someone's going to live."

Lelouch allows himself a small smile. "What's the approximation for me?"

"Mmm…" she says thoughtfully, brow creasing. She speaks with an old-world air, "'A short line, for one short-lived.' I always thought you were getting old too fast, big brother."

"I'm flattered," he replies playfully, and for a moment, he laughs along with her. "You're telling me I'm going to die young, huh? I guess I might as well get to work on that will."

"In all seriousness, Lelouch." Nunnally's tone, while more brisk than cruel, slaps the smile right off his face. "I think this is as good a sign as any that you should be worried about yourself rather than me. You shouldn't let little things get to you." Her voice lightens back up again. "Sleep on that, okay?"

"…all right."

When she gestures him forward, he offers her his cheek to kiss, like usual, but this time, he feels a bit sick when her lips brush against his skin. Has she ever sat and wished she was giving a different brother that farewell? A brother who was capable of smothering her with attention, speaking bluntly of important things, and believing her when she asserts her well-being?

A brother like Schneizel?

"8 AM, Sayoko."

The maid seems a bit better composed now, her crisp, formal tone back again. "Right. Good night, Master Suzaku."

"Good night!" is Suzaku's rather distant reply. Lelouch watches Nunnally's form disappear around the corner and swallows a lump in his throat, one that doesn't quite relent until some moments after they are gone and the door has sounded shut behind them, leaving him standing there staring unseeingly at it. "Did that seem as eerie to you as it did to me?"

It doesn't occur to him that Suzaku is speaking to him until the boy clears his throat. "It did. She thinks I'm going to kill myself worrying about her."

"Is she right?" the sound of dishes makes him remember the mess at the table, one Suzaku insisted he could take care of. Which he is, just painfully slowly. "I mean – I don't really want to pry, but I get the feeling that you're distracted after she leaves. Always."

"It's Schneizel." Lelouch crosses the room, sitting on Suzaku's yielding couch and nearly being consumed by it. "You heard Nunnally. He's been hanging around campus."

"You shouldn't have called him. He knows that he's gotten to you now." Damn Suzaku, parroting his thoughts. "And if you're really worried about him watching you, just move out of Nester. He might be a royal, but they don't have the authority to spy on private residences."

Now is not the time for Suzaku to be logical. Lelouch had wanted him to be childish and listen to his paranoid hunches. "I suppose you're right."

"Before you left for France, you were talking about us all moving in together. Maybe this is the best time for it to happen." At this, Suzaku seems a bit less levelheaded, quite apprehensive actually, poorly imitating eloquence.

Lelouch watches him bemusedly for a moment. Here's his chance for answers. "I'll consider it. And speaking of France… whatever happened to you being upset? About an hour ago, you were ready to tear my head off."

"What an interesting way to put it." Suzaku exhales. "My reasons for forgiving you are personal. Just like your reasons for keeping your secret. Can we just leave it at that?"

Yes, he supposes they can, but Lelouch can't see himself benefiting from it. It would be a good move to spring it on him later, when Suzaku is less guarded and more tired, perhaps. Like the perfect _checkmate_, except instead of some snot-nosed nobleman, he'll be implementing the strategy on his boyishly handsome paramour.

(Sometimes he is glad Suzaku can't read minds, lest he hear his rather ridiculous amount of chess-related thoughts.) "We'll talk about it later on."

The boy says nothing, getting to his feet and making his way to his desk, where his laptop sits blinking blue, perhaps idling. He brings it back to the couch and sits facing Lelouch, beginning to type away on something the older cannot see. Probably schoolwork he neglected to do.

He can see it now: Suzaku pleading with pseudo-intellectual, royalty loving Jeremiah Gottwald for an extension on some long-past deadline, his wish granted only because of his way to be particularly attractive while begging. Lelouch would know, anyway.

That thought springs up a few choice images of Suzaku, most of a sexual nature. He smiles softly to himself, looking peripherally at the concentrated face of his lover.

Sex is one thing he and Suzaku really can't fight about (save for at the beginning of their relationship, of course) because after a little while, last month especially, the time they'd spent… being intimate nearly tripled. All up until this week, of course, where Lelouch has had to get rather _imaginative _to fill the void.

Yet another reason why he is glad Suzaku can't read minds.

Through the din of near-constant typing, Lelouch fantasizes about a situation in which he, Suzaku and Nunnally _do _live together. Schneizel and his shark of a lawyer would quit analyzing every single aspect of his parenting (or at the very least it would happen less); his sister could attend Ashford again, have friends stay overnight like before (as long as Lelouch got to analyze them beforehand), and he could come home to Suzaku every night, _distract_ him from his assignments –

His lips curl upward and he doesn't realize just how noticeable it is until Suzaku asks him why he's making that face. "I was just thinking about something."

A stupid answer, but it seems to be good enough for Suzaku, who resumes typing without missing a beat. "Must've been intense. You looked a little scary for a second there."

"Did I." Lelouch watches his face closely, noticing that he looks a bit less irritated now, lighter and a bit more relaxed. "Have you been doing schoolwork all week?"

"For a lot of it." Suzaku's sock-clad foot nudges against his and suddenly green eyes twinkle, a bit knowingly. He nudges back. "It's probably the most work I've gotten done all year, no exaggeration."

"I'm sure. You might even pass now."

"If I'm lucky," Suzaku rolls his eyes. "What about Nunnally? How's her schoolwork been?"

"It—" Lelouch stops himself at the realization that, in actuality, he has no real answer for Suzaku. After all, it's Sayoko who takes care of that – Sayoko who teaches her, administers tests, and mails everything in to the school district for documentation. The only hand he'd had in her education was stroking the check. "I really couldn't say. I ought to keep an eye on things more."

Suzaku taps repeatedly at the backspace key. "Do you not trust Sayoko?"

"That isn't it. It'd be smarter of me to observe, though. Part of my job as an educator is to be mindful of others' methods."

"Sure you don't just feel bad?"

"Write your paper, Suzaku."

The amused smile he gets in return is almost enough to retrieve his mind from Nunnally-ville, but only _almost, _and Lelouch is worrying again almost immediately, the palms of his hands getting moist and hot.

He's fully aware of how irrational they are, the ridiculous anxiety-riddled thoughts he's entertaining (vignette scenes of Schneizel kidnapping Nunnally for example) but they're truly a force to be reckoned with. It really is ironic – in France, he'd imagined that his first few days home would be a peaceful, worry free time. Bang goes that theory.

"It's really hard for me to concentrate with you glaring at me like that."

Lelouch blinks. Evidently, he hadn't looked away from Suzaku in the midst of his inner monologue. "Sorry. I spaced out."

"Apparently." Suzaku smiles at him over the computer, but his eyes are wistful; Lelouch knows he's still disappointed that they haven't discussed the Nunnally issue in-depth, but won't be so invasive as to push him further. He's always liked that about him. "Just try and take your mind off it."

"That's impossible at the moment," Lelouch replies rather stoically, "since you're on the computer and I really don't have any work to do…" Other than vaporizing C.C. for spouting off the truth about the France trip, but all in good time.

Suzaku looks incredulous. "You could've just asked, you know. I'm really only writing the paper early because I feel guilty about slacking." He promptly shuts the laptop and sits it rather precariously on the edge of the coffee table, moving to sit Indian-style and look expectantly at the man before him. "So?"

Lelouch watches him. His lips curl. "I have suddenly become devoid of all possible activities we could do to pass the time. Beyond sex, of course."

A good-natured chuckle; Suzaku's cheeks have reddened, but his eyes reflect only the laughter. "I haven't thought about that in a while."

"Said the nineteen year old boy."

"I mean it! I've had so much going on this week – I helped Euphy with her apartment, _then _I went out and tried to buy a new bike, but all the outlet stores are closed for the holidays… and I saw Rivalz's band play –"

"They're real?"

"Yeah, and good, weirdly."

After this, he and Suzaku fall silent for a moment, really just looking at one another. Suzaku still seems strangely happy to be in his presence, despite their rather intense argument earlier – complete with that smile that always reminded Lelouch of saccharine made-for-TV movies. That isn't to say it fails to charm him, though, and his own expression soon mirrors it. "You know, I… would really like some tea."

The boy rolls his eyes, but his grin remains. "Britannians and their tea." He sets off for the kitchen.

"Japanese people are big fans of it too, if I'm not mistaken."

"Ours actually tastes good," is Suzaku's distant response, accented by the clinking of china. "You have Earl Grey and Darjeeling and all those others… like you can't pick just one or something."

"Multiplicity is the spice of life," Lelouch calls back absentmindedly, his thoughts elsewhere. _Elsewhere _being the Britannian Tearoom uptown, an establishment Schneizel had – _don't think about it._

He stands and, after a moment of frowning at the sudden crack he hears from the vicinity of his kneecaps (_maybe I really am getting old), _makes his way into the adjacent room to watch Suzaku prepare teabags, muttering to himself. He's never been very good with domestic tasks.

Lelouch surveys him with softening eyes, reveling in the way Suzaku's flick to his every other moment or so as he makes the tea, accompanied by a self-conscious little smile. He'd lived a week without these simple interactions, and hadn't taken much stock in them until now. Oh, the effects of separation.

When he stops looking at him, however, and focuses more intensely on his task, Lelouch lets his eyes wander, takes in a few more things he's missed about Suzaku – things I'm sure the reader can infer, because men, even Lelouch, really are quite predictable at times.

And Suzaku, at last done with the tea, is growing quite aware of his lecherous gaze. "Like my outfit, or what?" he asks playfully. Lelouch smiles back but he approaches the other and sidles up against his chest.

Suzaku is quite sure it isn't the tea that's making it so warm in here. He inhales deeply, pressing his nose to Lelouch's neck (cologne, vanilla, something else).

"Forget the tea," Lelouch says into his ear. "I think I know what we can do to pass the time."

Suzaku finds it difficult to keep his voice level. "And what is that?" though he knows; with the way Lelouch's eyes have darkened, how could he not?

"Take me to bed. No…" Suzaku is disappointed for just a moment, then – "carry me there."

Laughing mildly and hoisting the older up into his arms, Suzaku does just that.

––—∞—––

Lelouch is not a big fan of surprises.

This is why when the sunlight inhibits his ability to sleep any longer, and he wakes up only to grope blindly at the opposite side of the bed only to find it empty, he has the urge to find Suzaku and flush his face in a toilet.

But he doesn't. After a moment, he realizes there must be some rational explanation for Suzaku's absence (his very sudden, _unexplained _absence) and he really is overreacting. Besides, what would he look like making demands after his very intentional omission of his intentions in France?

Like an asshole. An egotistical, selfish asshole, who just spent the entire night rekindling his romance with Suzaku and would ruin it so quickly. Reflections aside, he picks up his phone –

… and the answer he gets is recorded. "_You've reached Suzaku. I can't come to the phone right now, but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you." _Polite and unassuming, as always. Lelouch frowns and calls again. Nothing.

Well, isn't this a nice way to start his morning.

Mind full of possibilities, Lelouch gets dressed (in pajamas) and makes himself coffee with the small amount of beans Suzaku has in the cabinet. That is, he begins to, until the phone rings. "Hello?" he answers, nearly rolling his eyes at how desperate he sounds.

"Lelouch – it's me." Suzaku sounds apologetic at once. "I didn't hear my phone, it was on silent … I'm sorry I walked out this morning, it's just." Lelouch waits, and it's a while. He wonders if Suzaku hung up, but – "Today's the day my dad died. I didn't realize it until I saw the date this morning, but then I went home. I really should've left a note or something."

The professor _would _be relieved that it was something so simple, but somehow he isn't. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Neither did I, really … I mean, maybe I forgot on purpose, I really don't know," Suzaku says uneasily. Lelouch thinks he can hear the scratching of a pen. "Anyway, I'll be back tonight, after church."

"Church?"

"Yeah. Oka-sa – er, my grandmother, she takes me every year. We say a word for him, and light a candle."

Lelouch stares out the window, feeling guilty for earlier when he'd intended to scold Suzaku. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Food is … honestly the last thing on my mind. I'm going to have to let you go now, I have things to do."

His mouth tightening resentfully, Lelouch murmurs, "Alright. I'll talk to you later," wondering exactly what the boy could have to do.

"Okay. Love you." _Click._

And then he is alone, with a pot of bitter coffee and his various ponderings about Suzaku. He'd sounded somber, of course (because there's no one better at hiding their emotions than Suzaku, not even him) but Lelouch knew that secretly he was probably drowning in guilt, so much more so than usual.

Dinner will be a quiet affair tonight, followed by an evening of silent channel flipping and the eventual passive-aggressive battle over the bedcovers.

Or at least that's how Lelouch imagines it, as he sets about doing Suzaku's abandoned dishes. Dreaming up dismal scenarios, however, does get boring after a while, so he turns on the radio, finding unexpected rapport with the easy music.

Come to think of it, he'll probably be with Suzaku a good deal these days. Of course, Nunnally is gone from 8 to 4 every weekday being tutored by Sayoko (often staying the night with her most of the time anyway), and he's off work until after the New Year, leaving plenty of prospective alone time.

This revelation would've felt like an early Christmas present to him any other day, but now, every moment is another wasted when considering Schneizel's presence.

Would it be better if he just kept Sayoko on as a housekeeper and taught Nunnally himself? After all, he's the one with the PhD and the real teaching experience, and she'd be more comfortable with him.

But really, how would he manage to juggle that on top of his current job _and _this new scuffle with his brothers? Besides, where would Suzaku fit into all this?

Using the age-old strategy of ignoring them, Lelouch forgets about these questions by doing _all _of Suzaku's dishes.

Even the clean ones.

––—∞—––

_Are dormitories always this hard to find, or what?_

Staring at the map of UOP's campus, Euphemia finally manages to locate Nester Hall, having only been driven here by Rivalz in the past. It's a nice building, really, its identical tan stucco units pressed against one another like row houses. It suits Suzaku.

He'll have to be home, he'll just have to – after all, he did call this morning, so he isn't completely adverse to the idea of a visit. At least, that's her take on things.

(And he'd seemed so lonely, so regretful, still icing over what happened nine years ago today. She couldn't let him weather this alone.)

Pressing the **2 **on the panel inside the elevator, Euphemia readjusts his Biochemistry book under her arm. He'd left it behind a week or two ago when he'd stayed over (the eve of their less-than-laudable efforts to better her dingy little apartment) and this struck her as a good opportunity to bring it back. Maybe she could even help him with the formulas – hadn't he said they confused him?

Nester Hall has a cheerful lemony smell, and she has come to associate it with both Suzaku and Kallen, her two friends that inhabit the mahogany-filled residence hall. She inhales wistfully and, once more tightening her grasp on the book, approaches his door.

Two rounds of knocking and the sound of the radio relents a little – a moment later, the door has come open and there he is –

… Professor Lamperouge. Not exactly the man she wanted to see. Trying not to sound deflated and only halfway succeeding, Euphemia queries, "Is Suzaku here?"

Her Literature instructor, looking too normal in black silk pajamas, maintains his stony expression. "I'm sorry. He's out. Today is a rather important day for him."

"I know," she says bitingly, immediately recoiling not at Lelouch's frown but at the sound of her own voice. "I mean … I know it is, I was just coming by to give him his Biochemistry book. He left it at my house."

Lelouch takes it, and looks brazenly upon her. She's never paid much attention to his height, but it's significant. "I'm going to assume you've come fifteen miles across town to return a forgotten textbook because you really are that kind of a person. That would be going out on a limb for me, but Suzaku only speaks well of you, so I'll go with it."

_You're such a grouch. _"I wouldn't have any other reason to come by," Euphemia responds, her voice picking up its normal tone for the first time since her arrival. "But while I'm here. How was your trip to Paris?"

"Far less enjoyable than I thought it would be." She can tell the professor wants the conversation to be over, but for some reason, he humors her. "Have you ever visited?"

"No … I've been to Spain, once when I was young."

"You don't say." He looks lightly amused, for reasons she cannot discern. "Well, Euphemia – I have a lot of cleaning to do. Have a good holiday."

"Professor!" after a moment he looks, rather exasperatedly, at her through the junction between door and frame. "I just want you to – please tell Suzaku I'm here for him if he wants to talk. I know how hard today must be … even after all this time."

(_I wish it was me he wanted to comfort him. Not you.)_

Violet eyes narrow a bit, and then relax after a moment. "I'll be sure to mention it. Now … run along."

_Run along. _That does little to assuage any of her bad feelings – it only reinforces the feeling that Suzaku left her in favor of someone much more worldly and mature.

She makes to say goodbye, but talking to closed doors has never gotten her anywhere before.

––—∞—––

Lelouch tells Suzaku to meet him at a rather affluent restaurant downtown, despite the fact that the brunet had declined any offers he made to cook dinner. It's a dimly lit place with more than enough candles. Suzaku remarks that it smells like cinnamon.

When he approaches the table, Lelouch makes a rather accurate observation about Suzaku's appearance. "You look like you were run over by a truck."

Dark-circled and bleary eyed, the boy smiles dryly. "I feel like I was. That church service lasted forever and I _still _haven't showered today." He did manage, however, to dress up – and even if his sky blue dress shirt and black slacks are wrinkled, Lelouch still feels they're very becoming of him. "You look good."

The sound of Suzaku's voice, crackly and tired, is rich to Lelouch's ears. "I tried." He sips at the ice water in front of him and fishes for less egotistical things to say. "I don't mean to pry –"

Suzaku chuckles. "Yes you do."

Lelouch acts as if he weren't interrupted. "- but do you think it went well? With your grandmother?" he stammers a bit there, and hopes Suzaku doesn't notice, but he doesn't let on if he does.

In fact, he is surprisingly indulgent. "Well, she never liked my father much. She used to say he lost his morals after he got involved with politics, which actually, I would agree with." Suddenly, his voice goes from chatty to solemn. "I guess … when people die, you forget the bad things about them. Or they just become less important." Suzaku toys with his straw, and Lelouch can't help but notice the sadness in his eyes.

"I see what you're saying. My mother," he offers, "was sometimes very catty. I used to hate that about her. But there were many more things that I loved."

Suzaku looks up and the professor feels himself blanch. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Of course." Lelouch licks his lips hastily. "Are you excited to be getting back to school?"

"Lelouch – " Suzaku looks frustrated, but he smiles exasperatedly. "I was thinking … that maybe you'd want to talk about us moving in together. Like we've said."

"Right." At this point, the waitress arrives and they place their order – Lelouch thinks he may have had her in class before. "You'd have to keep your home mailing address, of course. The school can't know we live together."

"I figured that was a given …" the boy smiles plaintively, staring at the tablecloth. "I just think it could be so much better than pushing everything else aside to hang around each other. I worry about you when it comes to your priorities."

"Suzaku … you're at the top of my list. Believe me."

"But what about Nunnally?"

_Nunnally. _Her name dredges up feelings of uncertainty, stinging clear. "I'd say you're … only second to her."

"Exactly… which is why I feel like it should be less of an occasional thing. You won't have to switch back and forth between the two of us if we all live together."

"I still would. But, Suzaku, I don't think she should know about _us, _at least not in that way."

Suzaku gives him an incredulous look. "Come on Lelouch, she's fifteen. She already knows about sex and – if she doesn't have her period by now I'd be worried."

Lelouch's voice is fast and tense. "Sayoko will tell her anything about that that she needs to know. Besides. If she knows I have a boyfriend – "

"I'm your boyfriend?" Suzaku sounds both surprised and pleased. "You said we were … just lovers_."_

_Did I? _"You're missing the point. If she knows I'm involved with people, she'll think it's okay for her to be involved with them too. Setting the example is part of being a good father, Suzaku."

"… no kidding." Suzaku's looking off in the distance and Lelouch knows, with a jolt, that he's crossed into sensitive territory. He makes a mental note to avoid paternal references whenever possible. "I just think she should be able to decide some things for herself. Being trapped all the time … it can get to you after a while."

The professor doesn't respond, he just watches Suzaku. Today must already be so difficult for him (as Euphemia had already observed); an argument about parenting probably isn't the wisest idea. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that."

"I know you didn't." Large eyes peer thoughtfully at him from across the table, and after a moment, Suzaku seems to recall a piece of information. "I found something today." He sounds excited.

"What?" he watches Suzaku reach into his pocket and unearth a large, gold ornate pocket watch, its chain glimmering in the candlelight. Though a bit aged, it's certainly beautiful … until he sees that the face is smashed, the numerals and tick-marks reflecting into the shards as if he were looking through a kaleidoscope.

"It was his," Suzaku explains, handing the watch carefully to Lelouch. "I was the one who broke it, too. I threw it at him." He looks as if he's sharing some private piece of black humor with himself before continuing, "we've talked about getting it repaired and sealed up, but we've never done it. I don't think she knows I took it home with me, either."

Lelouch inspects the old watch for a moment longer. He and Nunnally have few belongings of Marianne's, limited only to a bottle of lavender, some jewelry, and a few letters she'd written (expressly his). Nothing like this pocket watch, baroque and seemingly steeped in family history. He almost envies Suzaku. Almost. "I think our food should've been here by now."

"Yeah." After putting the watch away, Suzaku leans his face into his hand. "You know – we never did actually talk about your trip."

"And with good reason. Honestly, I don't think I could've been more bored."

"In Paris?" Suzaku is incredulous. "Your most favorite place in the whole wide world?"

Lelouch gives him a look. "Yes. That's right." Bubbling just beneath the surface is the desire to tell Suzaku that he so hated his trip because he missed him – but he knows now is not the proper time. Timing and phrasing are probably the most important factors when it comes to keeping Suzaku happy. "I bought a present for Nunnally, but the damned airline lost my bag."

"Karma," Suzaku says, but he doesn't seem to mean any harm. Really, he looks more interested in the ice cubes floating in his water.

"I got you a present, too, you know."

"Am I to expect a snow globe?"

"No, no." A small child a few tables away screeches; evidently his mother took away the fork he kept throwing at his sister.

Suzaku watches the scene as well. "A coffee mug?"

"Stop guessing, you'll ruin the magic of it."

Snort. "Magic? What can you get in France that makes things _magical?"_

Lelouch smiles. "I bought it here, today, actually. It was… an act of impulse-buying, but it's something I know you've really been wanting."

Their eyes meet for a moment, but without any particular emotion. The brunet cuts his steak quietly, almost painfully slowly. "Presents, expensive dinner, a nightcap – you either have something you want to confess, or you want something from me."

"…and I did your dishes. But really. What could I want from a college student?" Lelouch's eyes are dancing. "Is it so difficult to believe that I just love – "

Suzaku's eyes fly up; Lelouch, suddenly without much air in his lungs, fumbles for words. "…to do nice things for you," he finishes lamely.

His fingers still poised over the fork and knife, Suzaku looks discerningly across the table at Lelouch. He's a little flushed. "I thought that's what you said." But really, his own chest feels rather tight, because he'd wanted the sentence to go in a different direction – one that wasn't quite so _platonic. _Over the past month or so, Suzaku has resigned himself to the fact that Lelouch will never just _say it _because he doesn't _feel _it.

Oh, Freudian slips. The professor keeps trying to look away from Suzaku, but it seems his eyeballs are super-glued in place. "How cooked is that steak?"

"It's well done." He notes that the boy sounds rather intrigued. He pushes a portion of the filet across the plate, toward Lelouch. "You want some? I didn't think you'd go the whole night and just eat soup."

Lelouch's mouth is dry. "I don't think that … I'll pass."

Suzaku shrugs and eats the piece of steak immediately, as if he was just waiting for Lelouch to deny it. "You know, in Japan, we really don't eat steak that often."

"Yes, you all seem to eat your share of salmonella-infested raw fish."

"Don't knock it until you try it," the boy replies indignantly, moving another piece of meat around in the juice it left behind. He chews for a long time, as it's a rather large piece. "Anyway, for someone who has all these health concerns, you really shouldn't smoke, Lelouch."

Wait, what?

(_smile) _

"In France, I did dabble a bit in it – but I've stopped since I got home."

Suzaku looks at him like he knows better. "What cologne are you wearing? _Eau de Ashtray?"_

Well, this is perfect. He missed many things about Suzaku, but his persistence was not one of them. Therefore... "On another note," Lelouch exhales; the screaming child in the background at last goes silent. "Did you ask Euphemia to come by and see you today?"

An odd look. The other swallows his steak. "No. I talked to her, but I didn't invite her over."

Well. Considering Suzaku wasn't home at the time, Lelouch can see why the accusation is a little ridiculous. "I'm glad you have someone you can talk to about this."

Suzaku chews. Smiles warmly, but says nothing. Lelouch shifts in his seat, wanting the boy to say, _I'd much rather have talked to __**you**__._

But no. Munch, munch, munch. "If I'd have known the food here was this good, I would've said yes to dinner in a heartbeat."

"Now you know," Lelouch says, trying not to betray his irritation. He unfolds and refolds the napkin in his lap, and its stiffness reminds him that he's barely touched his food. Regardless, there are certainly better things to worry about. Like his rather embarrassing faux pas just a few minutes ago concerning a rather well-known three word phrase.

Another one of which explains it rather perfectly. (_I'm an idiot.)_

Eventually, after much vague conversation and the occasional banter, Suzaku finishes his steak and works on a dinner mint. After paying the bill, Lelouch takes him by the arm and escorts him out.

"What's the hurry?" Suzaku asks, but he looks relatively calm. "I thought maybe we could get dessert. I don't get to eat out much on my budget."

Normally such admittance would've made Lelouch guilty, but right now he could really care less. "Look. In University Square."

Suzaku cranes his neck. "I can't see past those trees."

"I'll show you." With that, the professor grabs his .hand – and as much as Suzaku fears them being discovered, holding hands is an impossible luxury in this relationship, so he lets it happen. Gladly.

Shivering all the while, he allows Lelouch to escort him through the garland-strung streets of Downtown Pendragon, distracted by gaggles of students and brightly illuminated shops the whole way. "Uh, Lelouch – what exactly are you showing me?"

He is ignored. Lelouch seems to walk ever faster, his long coat moving in the breeze behind him and nearly tripping Suzaku once or twice. "Nearly there," he says quickly.

The thing Lelouch so wanted to show him is actually pretty hard to miss. It's a gigantic ornate Christmas tree, decorated by thousands of multicolored lights. Since he hasn't really left campus since before the holidays began, Suzaku hasn't gotten to ogle the citywide decorations as much as he'd like.

Regardless, it's beautiful. "I can see why you were so eager to get here."

"It's the fifteenth," Lelouch informs him, "the day before town is closed off for the Holiday Parade. This is the last day we could've seen it." (And he himself had first seen it this afternoon, after fleeing from Nester in an attempt to rid himself of Schneizel-oriented thoughts. Oh, the power of sharing.)

Suzaku never forgot that Lelouch was holding his hand, but feeling its grip tighten on his makes him all the more aware of it, and the professor himself. Standing beside him, looking lightly flushed but nonetheless pleased, the older is a remarkable sight. "I'm glad we got to." And that Lelouch remembered. Usually, he spurns the littler things, giving gifts with price tags and without any real meaning (or perhaps that last part was just what C.C. told him).

Either way, he feels an intense rush of affection for his ex-prince. And, consequentially, an inability to come up with anything good to say.

All that comes out in the end is: "I never understood why we have Christmas trees."

"Well, they're German by custom," Lelouch explains, seemingly undaunted by that random remark. Suzaku loves him all the more for it. "One of their best known carols is _O Tannenbaum. _Britannians know it as _Oh, Christmas Tree."_

"Huh," Suzaku says thoughtfully, shivering a bit. Christmas indeed. "I know it's early, but… I really am cold. Aren't you?"

"Of course," Lelouch affirms. "Is that your backward way of asking to go home?"

In spite of himself, the brunet smiles. "Yeah. I guess it is."

And so – after one long look at that marvelous tree – Suzaku leads Lelouch this time, back through the winding streets, the trees, and then finally back through the parking lot of the restaurant. A thin blanket of snow covers the Hyundai.

They listen to the radio on the way to Lelouch's house, but music is the last thing on Suzaku's mind. He can only watch the man in the driver's seat, admire his pinking cheeks and the way he returns his gaze and smile at red lights. He's sure that if their places were reversed, Suzaku would've taken one look at Lelouch and promptly rear-ended the car in front of him.

"You can change the station if you want."

"Huh?" after a moment, Suzaku shakes his head. "No, it's alright. Look, Lelouch, thanks for taking me out. I really had a hard day today. But… after spending time with you, I feel like maybe it wasn't so bad in the end."

"Of course," Lelouch says cordially. He pauses a bit before responding to the rest. "I know you don't like talking about your father. Hell, I don't like to talk about mine either, but on the off chance that you do change your mind … you know I'm – " his noble brow creases, "you know I'm around whenever you need me, within reason."

Compassion. That's a big step for Lelouch, even if the promise was rather awkward. "Thanks." Suzaku wants to kiss him now, but that wouldn't sit well with the driver, considering their past experiences in the car. So he waits, rubbing his hands together in search of imaginary warmth, focusing on the radio now. ("_The more you know, the less you feel… some pray for, others steal…")_

At a stoplight, the driver smirks. "Suzaku, you seem troubled."

"Well, I – "

He doesn't get a chance to respond. It's a wet, hard kiss, not particularly long, but when it is over, Suzaku cannot find air to breathe. He stares, open-mouthed, at Lelouch, who smiles in a way that's so unusual for him – the sort of smile that shows all of his teeth, pulls back his cheekbones, and most importantly, makes him look truly happy.

"That should be enough to tide you over until we get home."

God, he loves this man.

––—∞—––

The next evening, he's sitting alone at Nester (almost completely so, as most students are staying elsewhere for the holidays) when he gets a call from a certain pink-haired ex girlfriend. Does he want to go and see a movie, she wants to know, and Suzaku is a second away from declining when he feels a pang of sympathy at the sound of her sweet but extremely _lonely _voice.

"Please, Suzaku? I'll pay for it and everything."

Drat. Why had he been cursed with this guilty conscience? "Well, I –"

"I understand if you have plans, it's just _Much Ado About Something _premieres tonight and I _really _wanted to go with someone, but Shirley said she was busy with the Theater Club, so…"

"I'll go with you, Euphy. I just had to think for a second to make sure I didn't have anything going on." But he _knows _he doesn't. The only person he spends his time with these days is Lelouch, and Lelouch is at a seminar until nine. "You're going to have to come pick me up."

"Ah, I know." She sounds painfully excited and goddamn, he pities her. "Have you looked into getting a new bike?"

"I'm working on it." Suzaku is really avoiding the task, as he's unsure of how he'd put a bike together if he mail-ordered one. "Well, I guess I'll see you later, Euphy."

He gets the impression that she didn't want the call to end, but Euphemia springs back into shape quickly enough. "Yep. Be ready in an hour, okay?"

"I will." The brunet looks out the window, watching the Theatre Club sell _King Lear _tickets outside the Fairling Library. He thinks he spots Shirley's orange head. They haven't talked in a while… shaking his head, Suzaku heads off for a shower.

He stands under the water, letting it soak his head. Thoughts of Lelouch come quickly, and of the seminar he's attending. Sometimes it's difficult to picture Lelouch _truly _involved in such formal activities, so refined and put together – but perhaps it's always that way once you've seen someone naked.

As that train of thought advances, Suzaku becomes aware of all the heat in this tiny shower stall, his skin flushing quickly. He thinks about last night (_how just minutes after they'd walked in the door, he'd allowed Lelouch to push him down on the couch, stripping them both down even though they were still cold from the outdoors –)_

Suzaku swallows and lets a hand trail down to his stiff cock. Belatedly, as his fist starts to move, he does a mental calculation of the amount of time he has left before Euphy arrives (some thirty minutes), but those thoughts fall away rather quickly as a moan crushes out from between his teeth.

It's insane, really, that the whole week his lover was gone, he'd never actually jerked off. Especially when he had so many good images to work with… Suzaku works his hand faster, the air filling with the sound of it, and sags against the shower wall, inhaling ravenously.

Soon enough, his belly tightens, and, crying out for release, Suzaku uses a second hand as well. Not even ten seconds passes before he comes, groaning, weak jets hitting the shower wall.

Well then. That was… unplanned. He cleans up the mess, feeling almost happy to do so, and finishes up the rest of his shower. Clothes wait for him on the counter.

Sitting in his chair, thighs feeling pleasurably tender, Suzaku thinks it's a wonder he doesn't do this more often.

When Euphemia arrives, he's still sitting there, wet hair still curling at the ends. "Hi," she says thinly, car keys jingling in her hand. "You look… warm."

Suzaku eyes his thick coat. "Too much?"

"No, I … sort of envy you, actually." She chuckles, and for a moment Suzaku thinks she knows what he just finished doing, as she looks confused. "Do you want to go?"

"Y-Yeah."

And how grateful he is for the coat when they step outside. His ears, still a bit damp, are like ice. Euphy's car is not any warmer.

"They say this is supposed to be the worst winter in years," she says in response to his shivering, but somehow the comment is not comforting. Suzaku just nods. "I can't imagine how it could've been for Lelouch, in Paris all that time."

"I'm sure he managed," Suzaku says tremulously, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Could you turn the heat on?"

The fact that she says it's broken only makes him wish he'd stayed home, but Suzaku finds it in himself to be kind to Euphy. She really does need the support these days, what with the stress of moving and all that advanced placement coursework (not to mention the fact that he'd still dumped her ) – so he literally grins and bears it, chatting lightly with her about school and the guys she'd attempted to date in recent months.

The ride is not a long one, but he feels like it was. Mostly because they said so much. Really, he does miss talking to her. While mild, Euphemia could be very witty when she wanted to, and that was one of the main qualities that had endeared him to her – and, naturally, to Lelouch as well.

Pendragon, however vast and sprawling a city it may be, only boasts one cinema, so of course the place is crowded to hell when they get there. He tells Euphy to wait in the car while he pays for their tickets, but of course she will have none of it. They wait in the seemingly endless line together, standing rather close out of necessity more than anything else. Suzaku doesn't even notice.

She leads him excitedly to the front row, where they are alone. The film they're watching is predictable, a bit overdone, but Suzaku doesn't dwell much on that. As long as he makes her happy, if only for a little while, he'll see anything.

As most dramas go, there is, of course, a romance weaved into the plot. Though it's a man and a woman, Suzaku notices that one is rather snippy, whilst the other is kinder, albeit less confident. His phone feels heavy in his pocket and he considers texting Lelouch, but he probably won't answer. He never does when on important business.

As the end of the movie draws near, Suzaku finds that Euphemia's scooted just a tad closer to him. Fine, it's not a bother. They were together a long time. Hell, being close to Lelouch is more stressful (as far as his heart and blood pressure are concerned) than sitting in such proximity with Euphy.

"I'm glad you came with me, Suzaku," she says softly. He can feel her voice against his skin. "I really do worry sometimes … is Lelouch good to you?"

For a moment, there are mental flashes of Lelouch's first night home, but they dissolve quickly when he imagines their embrace afterward. "Yeah. He really is."

She says nothing, looking at the screen for a while. Then: "I envy you. That sort of relationship is the one I always wanted." _It's the one we had, _Suzaku almost says, but she does not sound bitter, so.

"You could definitely still find someone. It's never too late for – "

Someone hisses _shhhh _behind them. From his dim view of Euphemia's face, he can tell she also thought him rather loud. "Sorry," he says in a low voice.

"We'll talk soon," she promises. "The movie's almost over." And sure enough, the credits start rolling to a jaunty tune not even five minutes later. Euphy stands before he does, brushing crumbs from her skirt. Someone whistles and there is jeering from the rows above.

"I'd like a piece of _that!" _someone says boorishly. Suzaku frowns. "Damn, how did I not notice her before?"

"Let's go," Euphy insists in a whisper. Suzaku looks for the source of the voice, somehow possessed to stay, despite the fact that only seconds ago he was just itching to get back home.

"What makes you think you can talk to women like that?" he demands of the sleazy man who felt it necessary to comment.

The man snickers. "What makes _you _think you should even get involved, you filthy Number? Shouldn't you be cleaning windows somewhere?"

Distantly, he becomes aware of Euphemia grabbing his wrist. "You're a racist too? Why am I not surprised." But he is, just at someone else – himself. By the fact that he feels rooted to the floor by his shoes, wanting to make this man regret slandering his ex. It's true he always wanted to protect her, but Suzaku could not have anticipated feeling this amount of fury at the idea of men gawking at her.

More coarse laughter. The man is missing quite a few teeth. "Like you'll do anything. Everyone knows your kind are all talk. You – " he looks at Euphy, at their joined arms – "holding hands with gutter trash like him? In that case, you deserve any name I call you – "

A soft noise – the clearing of a throat, Suzaku realizes – takes the man's attention elsewhere. A seedy usher stands a few feet away. "Do we have a problem here?"

Euphy's nails dig into his wrist.

"No," he finally relents after what seems like a millennia. The man smirks and her grip on him relaxes infinitesimally. "It was just a misunderstanding."

"Suzaku?" Euphemia sounds confused.

The usher, whose hat is much too big for his head, looks from Suzaku and Euphemia to their new friend and then back again. Even if Suzaku _had _reported the incident, if it wound up in this guy's hands, it would all have been for naught. "All right, well, I'm going to have to ask you all to leave the theater anyway. Closing time is in twenty minutes. Have a good evening."

Without another look at that fucker in the brown jacket (as he has so dubbed him), Suzaku – now holding his ex's hand – opts to exit the theater through the rear door. Immediately, his skin is screaming from the cold.

"I'm sorry that happened," he says resentfully once he and Euphemia have reached her car.

She purses her lips. "Men will always act that way in public as long as there are women to look at. It's just a fact of life."

"But they should never voice any of it, Euphy."

"It's not your responsibility to protect me. I can manage on my own. I have to now."

_Now. _Because back in the day, it _was _his responsibility. One he shirked thoughtlessly, just like all the others. "I know, it's just –"

"But I do appreciate it a lot." Suddenly she's smiling, and for some reason it reminds him of Lelouch. "You've always been so good to me."

He is about to argue, but Euphemia's mouth on his proves to be quite the obstacle. It is over just soon enough that he didn't have time to pull away.

Suzaku stares.

"Did you just kiss me?"

Blue eyes widen. She covers her moist-looking mouth. "I'm sorry. I guess I – when you defended me – but it's just because you're a good person, isn't it…"

Teenagers walk across the mall's square, giggling excitedly about something they're going to buy with money they probably didn't earn. Focusing on them only helps marginally with distracting him from what just happened.

"Suzaku." She chokes, and those teenagers may as well be on Mars by now. "I'm sorry. I don't even know why I'd _think … _oh god."

He chews his lip, lost for words. He won't say it's okay, because it certainly is not. Not by his standards. And Lelouch – he doesn't even want to think about him right now. But anyway, saying something to reprimand her will make him sound like a huge hypocrite, considering the things he did earlier this year, _without_ her knowledge.

"Let's just … not talk about this, alright? I think it'd be better if we didn't – "

The sight of tears paralyzes his vocal chords. He's stuck, like an outsider watching the scene, unsure of how to proceed or if he should even try to. But she gives him no choice.

"How can you love someone else so quickly? Didn't it ever hurt you that we broke up? You're just calm and polite whenever I bring it up, almost like… you're relieved… and…" she stops, smearing her sleeve across her eyes.

Suzaku says, "Of course it hurt me. I told you it did. I said I never meant for any of this to happen."

"You – "

"I know that doesn't make it right. But I want to be able to be friends with you like I used to be and not have to worry about – about stuff like this happening. Do you love me enough to do that for me?"

In hindsight, Suzaku realizes that must have sounded rather cruel, almost mocking. Euphemia, though, doesn't react negatively. In fact, she really doesn't react at all beyond a particularly long silence and: "Am I taking you to Nester or somewhere else?"

And so, she just won't relent. He thought she had, even if slowly, and that their friendship would be somewhat bittersweet but enduringly platonic. Evidently, this dream did not come true. "Lelouch's house. I'll show you how to get there."

Without another look at him, she ducks into the driver's seat. He settles in as well, and she turns on the radio before he can say another word.

He realizes then that Euphemia has changed. That she's become rather avoidant, self-defeating in a way. When she'd confronted him about this before, she'd been stubborn but genial, thirsty for answers and open to discussion. That is, until her feelings got in the way.

This incident seems to have been the very last straw. He knows because when he looks at her, she does not smile.

She always smiled before.

"So I'll see you around then," he says awkwardly once they finally make it to Lelouch's house. All the lights are on. Good. "Thanks for the ride. This was – "

"You don't have to say it was fun," Euphemia replies, sounding broken. Her eyes remained fixed on the windshield.

"No – it's really okay." He attempts to smile. It comes out as a crooked half-grimace.

"You're too nice to me, Suzaku," she murmurs, cutting off the conversation by rolling up the window and then pulling out of the driveway. She has a bit of trouble with the turn, but zooms away rather quickly after that.

Well. That all happened rather fast. Suzaku breathes out a long sigh and steps onto Lelouch's porch. The door is unlocked.

The house is deserted, but smells of cooking linger in the air. The dishwasher is running. He enters the living room next, where gas fire crackles in the hearth. "Lelouch?" he calls out. It echoes.

After a few minutes of searching, Suzaku finds him in the bedroom, asleep at the desk with his cheek pressed against that omnipresent grade book. A frown lingers on his face, as if he's having a particularly irritating dream. He walks up behind Lelouch and lays a hand on each shoulder.

Lelouch stirs quietly, leaning his head backward against Suzaku's chest. "This keeps happening to me; I sit down to work and pass out." His voice rumbles low through the younger's sternum.

"Maybe you aren't meant to get anything done."

They kiss. Suzaku wishes it could've lasted longer, but Lelouch gets to his feet. "How was your movie?"

_Tellhimtellhim__**tellhim**__–_

_"_It was interesting," he offers, closing the distance between himself and the professor to kiss him hard. Instead of questioning or glaring at him, Lelouch just shuts his eyes and responds slowly, his head swiveling to change the angle before pulling off wetly. He looks at Suzaku through lidded eyes.

"Suzaku."

"Yeah?" he wonders about that glint in Lelouch's eyes, and what it precedes. The professor looks at him narrowly, mischievous enough to make Suzaku anxious.

"What're you thinking about?"

"Nothing extreme." Still wearing that brazen look, Lelouch loosens his tie and casts it away. It lands on the desk. Next is his suit jacket, which he actually takes the time to fold.

_Oh, I see where this is going. _Following his lead, Suzaku pulls off his jacket and toes out of his shoes, excitement mounting. But there's something bothering him. "All the blinds are open."

Lelouch watches him for a moment, one eyebrow raised. "Why are you getting undressed?"

"Because you were," he answers slowly. "Did you want to do it for me, or what?"

The low light of the single lamp near the edge of the room makes Lelouch look somewhat eerie. His tone only greatens the effect: "I took off my tie because I'm uncomfortable, not because I want to have sex with you. Not at this very moment, at least. Put your shoes back on, I have something to show you."

Oh.

Well, okay then.

"…yeah." Consumed by the ebb and flow of embarrassment, Suzaku just nods, blindly following Lelouch through the dark house. "Where are we going?"

"To the garage," says Lelouch's voice with a hint of exasperation, as if this were a normal occurrence.

The sudden surge of light when they arrive is blinding, but once the stars have cleared, Suzaku sees a glossy new Hyundai, the same model as Lelouch's, but black rather than navy. "Wow," he says, "you got a new car."

A chuckle. Lelouch's amusement is nearly tangible. "Take a closer look at it."

Used to humoring the prince by now, Suzaku rounds the vehicle, looking quizzically toward the other all the while. In time, he notices a large red bow stuck to the trunk, the sort you see on a –

"Lelouch." He basks in the audacity of it for a moment before continuing, "Was… _this _the present you were talking about the other night?"

"It is. I kept seeing you on the internet looking for a new bicycle. I think this exceeds your expectations…?" he's smiling that I-know-all smile that is usually more annoying than charming, but this time may be the exception to the rule.

"Yeah, of course." Suzaku opens the driver's door and he's drenched in new-car smell. _New car._ "You didn't have to do this for me. Really. I could've dealt with it on my own."

Lelouch looks incredulous. "My own car is completely paid off as of last month. Nunnally and I are comfortable, you know. Besides, Pendragon is one of the universities that doesn't frown on driving to class, so you might as well take advantage of that."

Of course, the professor completely missed the point. "I really am grateful, but –"

"No buts. I always thought your essays had too many. I swear, people your age use prepositions like you do ranch dressing." He snorts and readjusts his glasses. Suzaku frowns.

"Ranch dressing?"

"Don't be redundant."

Any other day, Suzaku would roll his eyes at Lelouch's offensive strategies in conversation, but the way he's looking at him now – as if to say,

_(you deserve it)_

washes that and all the other negative impulses away.

"Thank you. Really."

"You're welcome," Lelouch says glibly, with a crooked smile. "Merry Christmas too, I suppose, even though it's a little early. I have yet to wrap Nunnally's presents, though," he adds thoughtfully.

Staring at Lelouch, feeling the warm gaze of those violet eyes, Suzaku feels sick, soon envisioning something very recent in his mind's eye (_himself and Euphemia outside the movie theater, where she'd done _that _and he'd felt so – so disgusted with himself and the cold was just too much -) _"You should probably get to that."

The tender expression fades. "Something's bothering you."

(_yeah, the fact that you're suddenly a telepath.)_

Suzaku scratches at the back of his neck. His sweaty neck. "What makes you say that?"

A long sigh. Lelouch blinks at him, looking wan. "I'm tired, Suzaku, so riddles are beyond me right now. Tell me what's happened."

Oh, wow. He never thought it would be that straightforward. It's almost a relief. "It's about Euphy."

Lelouch just takes his hand, leading the way back into the house silently. They're about halfway up the main staircase before he asks, "So is she dying of terminal cancer, or?"

"_Lelouch."_

"It's a valid question," the older says heavily. The bathroom door is ajar, and light leaks dimly into the bedroom. Lelouch makes a beeline for his cluttered sink, running warm water over a hand towel and pressing it to his face for a long moment. "My jaw locks up so often in the winter." After a moment of silence, he looks over at Suzaku.

Well, here goes. "I'm sorry. It's just kind of difficult for me to get out. Euphy- she kissed me," he says in one breath, anticipating the storm. But Lelouch doesn't fly up or question him. He just turns on the faucet and runs more water.

Finally: "I was right, then." Lelouch holds the towel on his jaw once more, suddenly contemplative. "I'd thought she was still in love with you."

"I knew that," Suzaku says dryly. "I just didn't think she'd act on it."

"She's either very bold or very stupid. Possibly both." The professor tosses his towel in the hamper. Suzaku follows him toward the bathtub. "I don't really have anything against her, Suzaku. That would make me a hypocrite. After all – isn't that what I did? Kissed you even though I knew you had someone already?"

"That's different. She…" He breaks off, distracted by the sight of Lelouch's bare shoulders and back as he leans over the tub. "She's been in love with me a long time. Since we were kids."

"…you're right. She's far nobler than I am, at any rate." The older laughs softly, but what Suzaku can see of his face is serious. "Hey."

"Hm?"

"Do you plan on getting undressed too or are you going to make this a challenge?"

Instead of teasing like usual, the professor sounded rather cold. That's why the message takes a little while to sink in. "…are you up for it?"

"If you are."

But the eyes locked on his are misty, and Suzaku knows he's feeling hopeful. That's fine. Having spent the evening in the company of Euphemia, all soft curves and sweetness, his aching for Lelouch's sharp angles and coy remarks has been lingering beneath the surface, just waiting to stir.

Suzaku undresses quickly ("slow down; we have all the time in the world" Lelouch tells him with a leer), and he is apt to listen when the older tells him to lie on his back. Suzaku shivers as he reaches for the lamp, dimming the lights and pushing long fingers through his hair, tickling his scalp. He closes his eyes, lets Lelouch run his hands all over him. His nipples peak in response to the cold touch; a leg shakes in anticipation.

"You know something, Suzaku?"

"Mm?" is all he can manage.

"You and I -" the places where Lelouch kisses his neck grow chilly once he pulls away - "have had one hell of a week."

"We – " Suzaku inhales greedily. "You haven't been here…"

"I know, but first there was France, and then… your father… and now this whole Euphemia business. It's as if the fates are out to get us."

The younger thinks that over, sitting up a bit in the tub. "They always have been. But." He runs a hand through the hair that sticks to Lelouch's damp forehead. "It seems like that doesn't matter in the end."

Lelouch's eyes narrow. "Are you just saying that because I bought you a car, or – "

Suzaku takes this opportunity to kiss Lelouch's smart-ass mouth, and from there, he can no longer think about fate or France or ex-girlfriends or forgotten assignments. He can no longer think, period. Lelouch has a lot to do with that, with the way he moves his tongue (in Suzaku's mouth) and clutches his hand (in Suzaku's.)

Eventually he winds up fucking Lelouch against the wall, only their ankles still in the water. The older cries out with each push forward, his grip tightening against Suzaku's shoulders (to the point where it's started to hurt, but really, Suzaku could not give less of a damn).

He doesn't think he's ever been this deep inside Lelouch before, and the heat of it is just _electrifying _– "Lelouch, I –"

"Shut… up," Lelouch grunts, breathing heavier before starting to whimper again. Suzaku sees sweat on every inch of his body, and he must look so much worse – but it doesn't matter. "I – _Suzaku –"_

After the younger changes angles, Lelouch stops talking, "oh" being his only noise, increasing in volume with each bump against his prostate. Finally, he just inhales sharply, and Suzaku pulls away from the other's chest, where his head has been the whole time. Lelouch's eyes – he's never seen them look so bright in his life.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks, pulling out quickly. But the question is answered for him by the sight of sticky whiteness running down the older's thighs. The sight of it is enough, and Suzaku follows suit, teeth fastened to Lelouch's shoulder.

Sometime later, once the harsh breathing has quieted, Lelouch surprises him by being the first one to speak. "Suzaku, I'm thinking it's time for a legitimate bath."

And eyeing the both of them, Suzaku rather agrees.

––—∞—––

Lelouch visits the Saffron Building the next day, moving quickly and almost clumsily along. After two weeks, his mailbox must be positively overflowing, and besides, what's to stop him from preparing for next term?

Not Suzaku, who's at his grandmother's. Not C.C., who is thankfully nowhere to be found. He hasn't been able to find her since he came back to Britannia, actually.

Besides, there's always the lurking possibility that Schneizel may have had someone paw around in there. While he may be royalty, his older brother has always had the persistent ability to hire idiots to do his dirty work. If someone has been inside, he'll likely know in an instant.

Alas, everything looks the same as it did the day he left – even the computer is undisturbed, his lesson plan still illuminating the screen. Odd. He'd been sure that in the event of his absence, Schneizel would have jumped at the opportunity to search the place (and that Dean Carlan would have jumped to host royalty) but it appears that neither have happened.

Relief coursing through him, the professor sits down at his desk, toying with a broken pen and the idea of moving out of Nester. Would it be better to stay at Arbordale or change residences completely – a blank slate?

The phone rings and he literally jumps, snatching it off the receiver. "What?" he demands sharply.

"Lelouch?" A curious, French-accented voice queries. "Is this a bad time?"

"Daniel." He huffs out a breath. "No, it's fine, you just startled me a bit." He can think of only one reason why his old friend would call, and that would of course be news about the job at the _Linguistique Ministère. _"What's going on?"

"A call came in from Director LaSalle just this morning! I've tried to call you several times, but I continue to get the answering machine! What have you been up to?"

"I'm on holiday leave," Lelouch says, realizing that his leg is shaking rather quickly beneath the desk and trying to steady it with his free hand. "I probably should have given you my cell number… what's going on?" he licks his lips.

Daniel pauses a moment; the ex-prince figures it for a hesitant silence and only grows more tense.

"She said that she spent a lot of time deciding since we both seemed so eager. The woman honestly draws out everything much farther than she should, as you know, she's no _poulet de printemps –" _the other laughs, finding himself quite funny. Lelouch frowns. "But she told me I have the job. Can you believe it? Everyone was sure it would be you…"

Lelouch feels a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it is short-lived. "I'm happy for you," he says genuinely, remembering the Frenchman's anxiety and often hopelessness in the week they spent trying to woo Director LaSalle.

Perhaps he'd just been a bit distracted, the ever-present thoughts of Suzaku clouding his ambitions. It is clear, though, that they'd chosen the better man, and he can't help but smile for his old colleague. The odds seemed one-in-a-million that he'd succeed, but he still had. It must have been fate.

("It seems like the fates are out to get us," he'd said last night, rather breathlessly, and Suzaku had responded,

"It doesn't seem to matter in the end.")

He listens to Daniel prattle ecstatically; his words often unintelligible, and eventually they lapse into French, Lelouch laughing easily along with him. It's strange, the lack of pain he feels over losing the job - in fact, as odd as it may sound, Lelouch is truly relieved.

Because.

This means that he _won't _ spend countless days trying to dredge up the courage to tell Suzaku he got the job - a job he'd worked so hard to convince Suzaku he didn't care so much about in the first place.

Smiling rather stupidly, Lelouch wishes Daniel good luck a few more times before dismissing the conversation. "I wish I could talk about this more, but I really have a lot to do before term starts again. You should email me sometime."

"Oh, but of course." Though it is going to be the other who will soon have no free time. "Good-bye, Lelouch."

He dials Suzaku as soon as the call is terminated. The student doesn't pick up until the third ring, undoubtedly searching for a place in which to hide from his grandmother. "Lelouch?" he answers, sounding a bit harried. "What's the matter? Is it Nunnally?"

"No. I just wanted to talk to you."

"...oh." Suzaku sounds, if anything, mildly frustrated. He has every right to be, as Lelouch promised he'd be busy all day, and that he should probably just turn his phone off. He also remembers the boy saying something about his grandmother being rather neurotic. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to make it fast. My grandma has some friends over and we're all playing _shogi."_

_"_ Sounds fun," Lelouch replies with feigned enthusiasm. "I'll make it quick, then. I didn't get the job. At the University of Paris."

A moment passes. There is a bit of shuffling. "I'm sorry," Suzaku says, though he doesn't sound like it at all. "You bought that plane ticket and everything."

"I know you couldn't be less sorry if you tried," Lelouch laughs dryly, but not without mirth. "Honestly, I feel better about not getting the job, if you can believe that."

"I really can't." Suzaku's voice has softened a bit, but there is a sharp noise in the background. Lelouch hears him speak his native tongue hurriedly. "I - Lelouch, I have to go now. I'm still coming over tonight, aren't I?"

"You are, as far as I know. But Suzaku - "

A huff. "Yeah?"

"...why did you forgive me? For lying to you?"

Silence. He looks at the phone a moment just to be sure Suzaku didn't hang up on him.

Then: "Because I love you. Now I really have to go."

Now he really has been disconnected, but Lelouch can't be bothered to notice, his gaze fixated blankly on the dark wood of his classroom door. His mind is currently ruled by what he's just heard, a short phrase that normally would've irked him, but this time actually appears to have hit home.

(_because I love you)_

Reader, he never imagined it could be that simple.

––—∞—––

_Author's Notes:_

Let me start with an apology. I'm sorry it's been so ridiculously long since I've updated. Five months, was it? I feel like a complete douche now. But! I made it ~ Also, happy one-day-early birthday to **Lelouch! **(_Even though since Code Geass is set in the future he's really only about a year old, our time...) _

So, this is chapter eleven. I've worked on it in broken up intervals, often out of order, as I've been really short on time for writing these days. I have managed, though it did take a regrettably long time. As always, I hope you all enjoyed it, and I'd like to thank my lovely Betafor working her way through my long ass, errors-aplenty chapters without a single complaint. Thank you, Jessica! C:

The preview to this chapter in the summary is also a little misleading. I planned for that scene to happen between Suzaku and Lelouch in person, but the way it turned out, it was a phone call in the end. I doubt this really upset anyone, but I did feel the need to point it out. OCD runs in my family, you see.

As this will probably be my last update until next season, with the way things have been going, happy holidays to all of you! The one thing I'm not looking forward to is my inevitable winter weight gain. D: does anyone else have this problem?

Thoughts, praise, opinions, concrit – all welcome. I'm looking forward to hearing from you all!


End file.
